Southern  Branch 
of  the 

University  of  California 

Los  Angeles 


Form  L  I 


3S37 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


EB   ~  ^  1925 
MAR  1  -  1925 

APR  3     1925 


MAR  261926 


Form  L-9-15m-8,'24 


A 
COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


A 
COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


BY 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

GEORGE  WRIGHT 


W^  3$® 

&*&*<£*.       ^.v-SsS 

r^w 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1917 

n  F"  *"?  -1  n 

f  U 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
THE  CKNTURY  Co. 


Published  October,  1916 


PS 

3  537 
S55.3 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I     WE  GET  READY  TO  CALL  ON  UNCLE  ANTHONY, 

BUT    MY    BROTHER    GOES    TO    CHURCH    .      .        3 

II     WE      INVITE     UNCLE     ANTHONY     AND     AUNT 

PHCEBE    TO    A    DANCE 8 

III  MY    BROTHER   AND    EDIE    GO    HOME    TO    DIN 

NER    DURING    NOON    RECESS,    BUT    I    PLAY 
WITH    THE    BOYS 14 

IV  WE   GO  AFTER  FROZEN   APPLES 20 

V     MR.  WHITE  AND  GRANDPA  TYLER  TALK  POLI 
TICS   AT   THE    STORE 26 

VI     MY    FATHER    TALKS    WITH    OLD    NEIGHBORS, 

AND    ASKS    THEM    TO    THE    DANCE     ...      32 

VII     EVERYBODY     COMES,     AND     JOHNNIE     FORMS 

ON 39 

VIII  MY  MOTHER  AND  FATHER  TAKE  PART  IN  THE 

OLD  DANCES 46 

IX     I    WATCH    THE    DANCING,    BUT    CAN'T    KEEP 

AWAKE     TILL     S-UPPER 53 

X     JACK     WASHINGTON     AND     COLONEL     STANIS- 

LAWSKI  GIVE  TEMPERANCE   LECTURES    .      .      59 

XI     JACK       SINGS       TEMPERANCE       SONGS,       AND 

PITCHES    INTO    THE    SALOONS 65 

XII     I   DIG  A  PATH,   AND   GET  A   RIDE   TO    SCHOOL 

WITH    WALT 71 

XIII  WE  HAVE  FUN  IN  THE  SNOW  BEFORE  SCHOOL 

CALLS          76 

XIV  WE    MAKE    TWO    SNOW    FORTS   AT   NOON,    AND 

HAVE    A    BATTLE 81 

XV     EDIE    IS    PUNISHED    AT    SCHOOL,    RIGHT    IN 

FRONT    OF    MY    BROTHER 86 


XVI 


CONTENTS 

i 

MY  FATHER  AND  UNCLE  ANTHONY  SHOVEL 
OUT  THE  ROAD.  AND  WE  SEE  A  SNOW- 


PLOUGH   93 

XVII     THERE     IS    A    BIG     SNOW     STORM,    AND    THE 

"YOUTH'S    COMPANION"    DOESN'T    COME     .      99 

XVIII     IT  IS   COLD   AT   SCHOOL,   AND   TEACHER   LETS 

US    DO    AS    WE    PLEASE 104 

XIX     MY    FATHER    BEGINS    TO    TAP    TREES    IN    THE 

SUGAR-BUSH 109 

XX     TIP  AND  BILL  AND  GEORGIE  GO  WITH  ME  TO 

THE    ARCH 114 

XXI  I  HELP  MY  FATHER  GATHER  SAP  AND  BOIL 

DOWN 119 

XXII     MY    FATHER    AND    MOTHER    SUGAR    OFF,    AND 

MAKE  SYRUP 124 

XXIII  AFTER  THE  SYRUP,  WE  MAKE  CAKES  OF  SUGAR  129 

XXIV  MY  BROTHER  LETS  THE   BOYS  AND  ME  GO  TO 

THE  ARCH  WITH  HIM 134 

XXV     WE  BAKE   POTATOES  AND  BOIL  EGGS  AT  THE 

ARCH 139 

XXVI     I  SPEND  AN  EVENING  AT  THE  ARCH  WITH  MY 

FATHER 145 

XXVII     WE  BOIL  DOWN,  AND  TAKE  THE  SYRUP  HOME   151 

XXVIII     I     HUNT     FOR     MAYFLOWERS,     AND     SEE     MY 

BROTHER   AND    EDIE 157 

XXIX     I    HELP    MY    MOTHER    CLEAN    UP    THE    FRONT 

YARD 164 

XXX     MY    FATHER   SOWS   WHEAT.    AND   WE    ATTEND 

TO    THE    BERRY    PATCHES 170 

XXXI     WE    PICK    UP    STONE,    AND    I    GO    WITH    MY 

BROTHER    AFTER    REDHORSE 174 

XXXII     MY  BROTHER  AND  EDIE  ARE  MISSING   .      .      .180 

XXXIII  I     GO     FISHING    WITH    TIP    AND     BILL     AND 

GEORGIE 187 

XXXIV  WE    HAVE    A    SWIM,    CATCH    FISH,    AND    LOSE 

OUR  LINES  ON  THE  WIRES 193 

vi 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


XXXV     I    FIND    THE    FIRST    STRAWBERRY,    AND    MY 

FATHER  MAKES  BOXES 199 

XXXVI     IT  IS  A  HOT  DAY  AT  SCHOOL,   AND  CHARLEY 

AND  DAN  HAVE  A  QUARREL 206 

XXXVII     GERTIE   AND  TIP   HAVE   TROUBLE    WITH   DAN 

IN  COUNTING  OUT  AND  PEG 212 

XXXVIII     WE    HAVE    THUNDER    AXD    LIGHTNING,    RAIX, 

HAIL,  AND  A  FINE   RAINBOW 218 

XXXIX     I  MANAGE  THE  STRAWBERRY  PICKING  WHILE 

MY  FATHER  GETS   IN   HAY 226 

XL     MY  FATHER  AND  I  TAKE  THE  BERRIES  TO  THE 

VILLAGE 233 

XLI     I   BREAK  THE   OLD  HEN'S  LEG,   AND  WE   PICK 

RASPBERRIES 241 

XLII     MY    MOTHER    HEARS    FROM    DORA    THAT    MY 

BROTHER  AND  EDIE  ARE  THERE    .      .      .      .246 

XLIII     EDIE'S    MOTHER    COMES    DOWN    JUST    AFTER 

THE  LETTER  HAS  BEEN  READ 252 

XLIV     MY  FATHER  AXD  UNCLE  ANTHONY  CULTIVATE 

CORN,    AND    STOP   TO   TALK 257 

XLV     GRANDPA    TYLER    JOKES    MY    FATHER    ABOUT 

HIS    CLOTHES 263 

XLVI     OLD    JERRY    DODGE    IS    DRUNK    AGAIN,    AXD 

CAP    SWANN    GETS    A    LETTER 268 

XLVII     MR.  WHITE  TALKS  POLITICS,   AXD   MR.   PURDY 

IS    DISGUSTED 274 

XLVIII     MY    FATHER    AND    I    GET    READY    TO    MAKE    A 

SUNDAY    VISIT 280 

XLIX     WE   DRIVE  TO  AUNT  CATY'S  AND  UNCLE  DAN- 
EL'S     284 

L     MY    FATHER    TELLS    ME    ABOUT    THE    PLANK 

ROAD    AND    EARLY    TIMES 288 

LI     WE  FIND  COUSIN  DELIA  FEEDING  THE  CHICK 
ENS  AXD  TURKEYS 292 

LII     COUSIN    SYLVANUS    AND    ALL   THE    REST   ARE 

GLAD   TO    SEE    US 297 

vii 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

LIII     WE   HAVE   BROWN  EGGS,   HOT  BISCUITS,   AND 

PEAR    PRESERVES    FOR    DINNER    ....    304 

LIV     WE  FEED  THE  HORSES,  AND  GET  A  BASKET  OF 

SWEET-APPLES 310 

LV     THE    HALES    AND    ALVARUS    COME,    AND    AL- 

VARUS  TELLS  ABOUT  THE   DOGS    .       .      .      .315 

LVI     MY  FATHER  AND   I   START  HOME,   AND   DELIA 

FEEDS  THE   CHICKENS  AGAIN 321 

LVII     WE   KILL   SOME   ROOSTERS,   AND   GO   TO   MEET 

MY  BROTHER  AND   EDIE 328 

LVIII     MY  BROTHER  AND  EDIE  HAVE  THANKSGIVING 

DINNER  WITH   US 333 

LIX     AUNT    PHCEBE    AND    UNCLE     ANTHONY    COME 

OVER  AFTER  SUPPER 338 

LX     SYD  AND  STEVE  AND  THE  GIRLS  CALL  ON  MY 

BROTHER  AND    EDIE 344 


vm 


A 
COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


CHARACTERS 

I,  THE  CHRONICLER:  a  boy  ten  years  old 

MY  FATHER:  an  early  settler,  from  New  York 

MY  MOTHER:  an  early  settler,  from  New  Hampshire 

MY  BROTHER:  a  big  boy  at  school 

UNCLE  ANTHONY  and  AUNT  PHOEBE:  early  settlers 

EPHRAM  WHITE:  storekeeper  and  postmaster 

GRANDPA  TYLER,  MR.  PCHDY,  MR.  WILLIAMS:  early  settlers 

MRS.  TYLER,  MRS.  PUHDY,  MRS.  WILLIAMS 

CAP  SWANN,  JERRY  DODGE,  PETER  WALKER:  old  residents 

JOHNNIE:  day  operator 

LON  and  LEDLEY:  fiddlers 

JACK    WASHINGTON-    and    COLONEL    STANISLAWSKI:   temperance 

lecturers 

GOTTLIEB,  ERNEST,  ANNIE,  PAULINE:  Germans 
MRS.  JAMES,  ME.  ROLFE:  at  the  Village 
SYD,  STEVE,  WALT,  LITTLE  JOE,  CHARLEY,  JIM:  big  boys. 
FRANK,  LIJE,  DAN,  JACK,  BILL:  smaller  boys 
TIP  and  GEORGIE:  little  boys 
AUGUST  and  HEINY:  little  Polacks 
EDIE,  JENNIE,  FRANKIE,  MYHA,  ADDIE:  big  girls 
GERTIE,  MINNIE:  little  girls 
TEACHER 

AUNT  CATY  and  UNCLE  DANIEL:  early  settlers 
SYT.VANUS,  ALVARUS,  SARAH,  DELIA,  JULIETTE,  MELINDA:  their 

sons  and  daughters 
HALE:  Melinda's  husband 
WINNIE  and  FLOY:  their  children 


A 
COUNTRY   CHRONICLE 


MY  father  is  leaning  back  in  the  old  rocking- 
chair,  reading  Dombey  and  Son.  He  has  the 
stand  pulled  out  from  under  the  looking-glass,  with 
the  lamp  on  it.  His  legs  are  stretched  out  so  far 
that  they  go  part  way  around  the  stove. 

The  stove  is  black  and  shiny.  My  mother  is  al 
ways  polishing  it.  It  is  round  at  both  ends,  and  has 
a  draft  in  front.  My  father's  feet  are  on  the  bottom 
of  the  stove  where  the  rim  sticks  out  all  around. 
Once  when  the  stove  got  red-hot,  his  pants  caught 
fire.  He  did  n't  find  it  out  until  we  all  noticed  the 
smell. 

I  am  sitting  with  my  feet  on  the  stove  by  the  draft, 
reading  some  of  last  week's  Youth's  Companion 
again.  I  wish  my  father  would  get  through  with 
Dombey  and  Son,  so  I  could  read  it  right  along. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  always  have  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  something 
interesting  when  he  comes  in. 

I  can  hear  my  mother  in  the  kitchen,  washing  the 
bowls  and  spoons  in  the  sink.  We  have  just  had 
supper.  We  always  have  bread  and  milk  Sunday 
nights.  We  have  it  right  after  they  bring  in  the 
milking,  when  the  milk  is  fresh  and  warm. 

I  hear  my  brother  come  in  from  the  barn  and  shut 
the  woodshed  door  and  sweep  off  his  feet.  He  has 
been  out  to  finish  up  the  chores.  He  comes  into  the 
kitchen  with  the  lantern  and  goes  over  to  the  cellar 
door,  and  gives  the  lantern  a  quick  jerk  to  put  it  out. 
He  hangs  it  up  in  the  cellar  way.  I  can  see  him  from 
where  I  sit. 

My  mother  and  my  brother  come  in  where  we  are. 
My  mother  sits  down  beside  me,  with  her  feet  on  the 
bottom  of  the  stove  near  mine.  She  sits  with  her 
elbow  in  her  hand,  and  the  other  hand  on  her  cheek. 
She  looks  down  at  the  draft.  The  fire  is  burning 
hard,  and  makes  a  noise.  My  brother  stands  lean 
ing  in  the  door,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
.  All  at  once  my  father  puts  the  book  down  on  his 
lap  and  sits  up.  He  takes  his  spectacles  off  and  holds 
them  in  both  hands,  looking  at  us.  His  elbows  are  on 
the  arms  of  the  chair.  We  all  look  at  him  to  see  what 
he  is  going  to  say. 

My  father  says :  "  I  '11  tell  you.  S'posin'  we  all 
go  over  to  Uncle  Anthony's  a  while,  and  tell  them 
about  the  dance." 

4- 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


My  mother  says :  "  All  right !  I  think  it  would 
be  a  real  nice  way  to  spend  part  of  the  evening." 

My  brother  does  n't  say  any 
thing.  My  mother  looks  at  him. 
She  says :  "  I  don't  s'pose  you 
want  to  go  with  us  —  do  you?" 
She  laughs  a  little  bit.  I  know  she 
is  making  fun  of  him  about  Edie. 

My  brother  takes  his  hands  out 
of  his  pockets,  and  picks  up  his 
hat  off  the  chair  by  the  wall.  He 
smiles  a  little,  and  then  looks  at 
the  floor.  He  says :  "  No,  I 
kind  o'  thought  I  'd  go  to 
church."  I  know  he  is  getting  red. 

My  mother  laughs  again.  My  father  gets  up  and 
sets  the  stand  back  under  the  looking-glass.  He 
says :  "  Yes,  he  's  gettin'  awful  pious  all  of  a  sud 
den.  Never  misses  Sunday  night  or  prayer  meetin'. 
I  declare,  it 's  just  wonderful  the  way  that  boy  's  got 
religion !  " 

We  all  laugh  except  my  brother.  He  keeps  look 
ing  at  the  floor.  He  sits  down,  and  makes  believe 
he  does  n't  care,  but  I  know  he  does. 

My  mother  says  to  me :  "  Come  on,  Bug,  let 's  get 
ready  and  go." 

My  father  takes  his  old  grey  felt  hat  off  the  top 
of  the  secretary  and  puts  it  on.  It  is  almost  the 
color  of  his  hair  and  whiskers.  My  mother  gets  her 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

black  and  red  checked  shawl  out  of  the  bedroom  closet 
and  throws  it  over  her  head.  My  father  opens  the 
front  door. 

My  mother  says  to  my  brother :  "  Well,  don't 
stand  at  the  gate  too  long  after  church.  You  know 
her  ma  don't  like  it  very  well."  She  says :  *'  And 
don't  forget,  when  you  go,  to  leave  the  key  on  the 
thermometer  for  us." 

We  go  down  the  path.  There  are  big  chunks  of 
snow  on  both  sides.  My  brother  shoveled  the  path 
this  morning,  and  I  helped.  He  says  I  am  big  enough 
to  shovel  it  all  now,  but  my  mother  says  it  is  too  hard 
for  such  a  little  boy. 

Uncle  Anthony's  is  almost  straight  across  the  road. 
We  all  say  "  Uncle  Anthony  "  and  "  Aunt  Phoebe  "  so 
much  that  I  almost  forget  that  they  are  n't  really 
my  uncle  and  aunt  at  all.  My  father  and  Uncle 
Anthony  have  shared  tools  ever  since  they  settled 
here. 

We  go  around  into  the  woodshed  and  knock  at  the 
kitchen  door.  We  can  hear  Aunt  Phoebe  coming 
right  away. 

Aunt  Phoebe  opens  the  door.  She  says :  "  Why, 
good  evenin',  good  evenin' !  Come  right  in,  won't 
ye?  We're  real  glad  to  see  ye,  all  of  ye.  Come 
in!" 

Uncle  Anthony  is  sitting  at  the  table  by  the  stove, 
reading  the  newspaper.  We  can  smell  the  kerosene 
lamp. 

6 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Uncle  Anthony  puts  the  paper  down,  and  looks  up 
to  see  who  it  is.  He  looks  over  the  top  of  his  spec 
tacles.  He  says :  "  Oh,  it 's  you,  is  it,  Hi  ?  Glad 
to  see  ye!  Set  down,  set  down,  won't  ye?  An'  take 
off  your  things." 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  we  ain't  goin'  to  stay  long. 
We  kind  o'  thought  we  'd  come  over  and  let  you  know 
we  was  goin'  to  have  a  dance  next  Saturday  night,  and 
invite  you." 


II 


We  Invite  Uncle  Anthony  and  Aunt  Phoebe 
to  a  Dance 


U 


on  his  upper  lip. 


NCLE    ANTHONY    has 

grey  hair  and  whiskers, 
and  a  big  wart   on  his  cheek. 
His  whiskers  are  different  from 
my   father's.     They    don't   be 
gin  until  where  his  cheeks  and 
his  chin  come  to  an  end.     My 
father's  are  everywhere  except 
He  shaves  that  every  Sunday. 
Uncle  Anthony  is  ever  so  slow  when  he  talks.     My 
mother  says  he  drawls.     When  he  talks  about  his 
marsh  he  always  calls  it  his  "  ma'sh."     My  mother 
laughs  every  time  she  thinks  of  it. 

Aunt  Phoebe  speaks  short.  The  corners  of  her 
eyes  and  mouth  are  pointed.  She  is  n't  quite  so 
round  and  plump  as  my  mother,  and  she  is  a  little  bit 
older.  My  mother's  hair  is  black,  and  her  eyes  are 
grey  blue. 

Uncle  Anthony  has  his  old  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
but  there  is  n't  any  smoke  coming  out.  I  know  my 
father  is  glad  of  that,  because  he  does  n't  like  tobacco 

8 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

smoke.  My  mother  says  the  way  he  talks  about  it 
sounds  just  dreadful,  and  he  must  be  careful  and  not 
talk  that  way  when  smokers  are  around. 

Uncle  Anthony  knows  my  father  does  n't  like  to 
bacco  smoke.  He  takes  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth, 
and  holds  it  up  toward  my  father.  He  laughs,  and 
says :  "  You  need  n't  to  be  afraid,  Hi.  'T  ain't 
loaded.  It  went  out  half  an  hour  ago,  and  I  been  too 
shif'less  to  fill  it  up  agin." 

My  father  laughs.  Uncle  Anthony  puts  the  pipe 
back  in  his  mouth.  Part  of  the  time  he  forgets,  and 
sucks  through  it,  and  part  of  the  time  he  breathes 
through  his  nose.  It  is  so  loud  we  all  can  hear  it. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  So  you  're  goin'  to  give 
another  dance,  are  ye?  Well,  now,  I  think  that'll 
be  fine !  It  was  a  good  idee,  your  buildin'  your  house 
so  's  they  was  that  big  room  to  dance  in.  We  've  had 
a  lot  o'  good  times  in  that  room." 

Uncle  Anthony  sucks  through  his  pipe  some  more. 
He  keeps  looking  at  the  stove.  He  says :  "  Of 
course  Phoebe  and  me  don't  dance  much,  but  then  the 
boys  '11  be  over  —  and  I  s'pose  ye  '11  have  a  euchre 
deck  or  two  for  us  older  folks.  'T  ain't  the  way  it 
was  years  ago,  when  we  used  to  be  dancin'  somewheres 
or  other  every  week." 

My  father  says :  "  No,  it  ain't.  Sometimes  I 
think  I  '11  never  have  another.  But  it 's  a  nice  way 
for  us  all  to  keep  acquainted,  and  I  calculate  to  keep 
on  havin'  at  least  one  a  year." 

9 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Uncle  Anthony's  house  smells  different  from  ours. 
It  always  makes  me  think  of  tobacco,  but  it  smells  of 
apples  and  cooked  things,  too.  My  mother  says  she 
supposes  our  house  smells  as  different  to  them  as 
theirs  does  to  us. 

They  have  a  big  map  on  their  wall.  Right  near  it 
is  the  old  musket  Lennie  had  in  the  war.  It  has  a 
sword  bayonet.  My  brother  and  Syd  borrowed  it 
once,  the  time  they  had  the  dialogue  about  Norval 
and  Glenalvon.  They  have  a  big  clock  like  ours,  only 
it  has  a  picture  in  the  door,  instead  of  a  looking- 
glass. 

Uncle  Anthony  leans  over  and  opens  the  stove  door. 
He  pokes  the  fire,  and  then  puts  a  chunk  in.  It 
begins  to  snap,  and  we  can  hear  the  blaze.  Before 
long  there  is  a  little  red  spot  on  the  side  of  the  stove. 
It  gets  bigger,  and  Uncle  Anthony  shuts  the  draft. 
There  is  a  little  crackling  sound  in  the  stove  and  the 
pipe. 

My  father  and  Uncle  Anthony  talk  about  York 
State,  and  early  times,  and  raisings,  and  crops. 
Aunt  Phoebe  and  my  mother  knit.  They  talk  about 
calico,  and  preserves,  and  dances,  and  what  the 
neighbors  say  and  do. 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  Ain't  your  boy  gettin'  kind 
o'  thick  with  the  widow's  girl  up  there?  Seems  to 
me  I  see  'em  go  by  together  a  good  deal,  and  Milt 
says  they  're  awful  thick  at  school." 

My  mother  laughs.  She  says :  "  Yes,  I  don't 
10 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


know  but  they  do   act  as  if  they 

thought    quite    a    little     of    each 

other." 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :    "  Well,  don't 

you    think   it 's   pretty   young   for 

'em  to  be  goin'  together  so  much? 

Of  course  he  's  eighteen,  and  mebbe 

it 's  all  right  for  him,  but  then  she 

can't  be  more 'n  fourteen,  can  she?     Milt  says  she 

ain't.     I  declare,  it 's  such  a  little  while  since  they 

moved  out  from  Town  that  /  don't  know  'em  well 

enough  to  know  how  old  she  is." 

My  mother  says :     "  Oh,  they  're  all  right !     Just 

let  'em  alone,  and  they  '11  get  over  it,  same  as  most 

of  'em  do.     Or  if  they  don't,  why,  they  can  wait  a  few 

years  till  she  is  old 
enough." 

We  get  up.  Un 
cle  Anthony  comes 
with  us  as  far  as 
the  woodshed  door. 
He  brings  the  lamp. 
We  can  see  the 
woodpile  just  out 
side. 

Aunt  Phoebe 

comes  too.  We 
start  away.  Uncle 
Anthony  turns  to 
go  in  again. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  Davi'son,  you  know  we  ought 
to  have  a  few  sticks  o'  wood  for  breakfast." 

Uncle  Anthony  laughs  a  little.  He  answers,  as 
slowly  as  can  be :  "  Well,  'y  gosh,  ef  you  wimmin 
folks  ain't  always  wantin'  something  and  it 's  mostly 
wood ! " 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  0'  course,  you  can't  get 
breakfast  without  wood.  'T  ain't  my  fault." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  you  need  n't  to  be 
so  'f raid  I  '11  fergit  it.  I  ain't  never  yit,  have  I  ?  " 

Aunt  Phoebe  laughs.  She  says :  "  Good  reason 
why !  "  She  says :  "  No,  I  don't  know  as  ye  have. 
But  I  'm  always  afraid  ye  will,  and  I  don't  intend  ye 
shall."  She  says :  "  Come  on,  I  '11  light  your  lan 
tern  for  ye." 

We  cross  the  road  and  go  through  our  front  gate. 
My  father  says :  "  I  declare,  I  don't  see  how  she 
c'n  stand  it !  Never  has  more  'n  enough  cut  for  the 
next  meal  ahead." 

My  mother  says :  "  Nor  I  either.  But  then,  they 
seem  to  get  along  all  right,  if  they  don't  have  wood 
ahead." 

My  father  always  has  a  whole  year's  wood  ahead, 
all  split  and  piled.  Every  spring  Tip  helps  me  pile 
it.  I  never  think  about  Tip's  real  name  being  Wil 
liam  Henry  Harrison.  His  father  is  the  only  one 
that  calls  him  Harrison.  Everybody  else  calls  him 
just  Tip.  He  says  he  gets  awfully  tired  explaining 
about  Tippecanoe. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Before  we  go  in,  we  can  hear  Uncle  Anthony's  saw. 
It  is  as  slow  as  it  can  be.  It  keeps  sounding  as  if  it 
were  going  to  stop.  We  know  it  is  an  oak  stick  with 
lots  of  splinters,  because  it  snorts  so.  We  can  see 
the  light  from  his  lantern. 


13 


Ill 

My  Brother  and  Edie  Go  Home  to  Dinner  Durmg 
Noon  Recess,  but  I  Play  with  the  Boys 

MY  brother  and  Edie  start  off  together  as  soon 
as  school  is  out.  Edie  has  a  blue  woolen  hood 
with  a  white  bow  tied  under  her  chin.  She  has  a  blue 
dress  on,  and  a  blue  cloak  with  red  trimmings.  Her 
hair  is  yellow.  Everybody  is  always  calling  it 
golden,  and  we  boys  laugh  about  it. 

Syd  and  Steve  and  Milt  always  go  home  for  din 
ner.  They  are  big  boys.  Syd  lives  cornerways 
across  from  the  schoolhouse.  Steve  lives  about  half 
way  down  the  church  hill. 

Tip  and  Georgie  always  go  home,  too.  We  never 
have  much  real  fun  till  they  get  back.  Georgie  lives 
right  near.  Tip  lives  almost  across  from  the  church, 
next  to  Edie's.  Our  house  is  more  than  twice  as  far 
away.  I  don't  go  home  to  dinner,  because  I  don't 
like  to  miss  any  fun. 

The  big  boys  that  are  left  sit  down  in  the  corner 
seats  with  their  dinner  pails.  The  little  boys  sit  near 
them.  The  Polacks  and  the  Dutch  sit  farther  off, 
on  the  side-seat.  They  never  have  anything  but 
bread  with  lard  or  syrup  on  it.  My  father  says  I 

14. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

ought  to  call  them  Germans,  not  Dutch,  but  almost 
everybody  calls  them  Dutch. 

Jim  says  to  Little  Joe :  "  Want  to  trade  dinners 
to-day  ?  "  Little  Joe  is  really  a  big  boy,  only  we  call 
him  Little  Joe  because  his  father  is  Big  Joe.  They 
are  English. 

Little  Joe  says :  "  Do  you  know  w'at  you  got  in 
yourn?  Hif  you  don't  know,  I '11  trade  with  you.  I 
don't  know  w'at 's  in  mine." 

Jim  says :     "  No,  I  don't  know,  'cross  my  heart !  " 

Little  Joe  says :  "  Hall  right,  give  it  'ere,  then ! 
'Ere  's  mine." 

They  trade.  They  both  take  the  covers  off,  and 
look  in.  They  both  say :  "  M-m-m-m !  I  'm  glad  I 
traded !  "  Only  Little  Joe  always  says  "  Hi "  in 
stead  of  "  I." 

Little  Joe  says :  "  I  like  your  bread  and  butter, 
Jim.  I  wisht  we  'ad  saltrisin'  bread  at  our  'ouse." 

Jim  says :  "  Oh,  I  like  'east  bread  better.  I  wish 
we  could  always  have  it,  like  you." 

Bill  says :  "  You  fellers  ought  to  trade  mothers. 
Then  you  'd  both  have  the  kind  o'  bread  you  wanted. 
Watch  me  crack  this  here  egg  on  my  forehead." 

The  egg  makes  a  solid  noise  three  or  four  times 
before  we  hear  it  crack.  Bill  draws  the  air  in 
through  his  teeth,  it  hurt  so.  There  is  a  red  spot 
on  his  forehead. 

Bill  begins  to  pick  the  shell  off.  He  says :  "  All 
the  reason  you  fellers  like  each  other's  bread  is  'cause 

15 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

you  don't  have  it  every  day.     If  you  had  it  right 
along,  you  'd  soon  be  wantin'  the  other  kind." 

Frank  says :  "  That 's  just  the  reason.  Grub  al 
ways  tastes  better  somewheres  else." 

Frank  is  n't  quite  a  big  boy  yet.  He  has  great, 
big,  white  teeth,  far  apart.  He  knows  how  to  lick 
his  lips  with  his  tongue  so  that  it  makes  us  all  laugh. 
It  makes  us  think  of  a  sheep. 

Frank  takes  a  piece  of  pie  out  of  his  pail.  He 
claps  the  cover  on,  and  gets  up  and  puts  the  pail  on 
the  shelf. 

Frank's  pie  is  apple  pie.  He  holds  it  up  in  his 
right  hand,  and  bites  off  the  point.  He  chews  two  or 
three  times,  and  then  bites  again.  He  puts  his  left 
hand  in  his  pocket. 

Frank's  coat  is  buttoned  tight,  so  that  he  has  to 
pull  one  corner  up  when  he  puts  his  hand  in.  He 
leans  against  the  wood-box  behind  the  stove,  and  eats. 
The  wood-box  has  a  slanting  cover.  When  you  lift 
the  cover  up,  you  can  see  that  the  wood-box  goes 
right  through  the  wall.  You  can  see  out  into  the 
entry. 

Frank's  mouth  is  so  full  that  we  can  see  the  pie 
tfhen  he  chews.  There  are  little  pieces  of  crust  in 
the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  on  his  coat.  When  he 
has  all  the  apple  part  in,  he  chews  a  little  while,  and 
then  swallows  hard.  Then  he  looks  at  the  crust  part 
that  is  left.  He  says :  "  I  can't  eat  the  rest  of  this. 
I  'm  so  full  a'ready  I  could  bust !  " 

16 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Frank  stands  and  holds  the  crust  a  while.  He 
opens  the  stove  door,  and  throws  it  in. 

Dan  jumps  up  and  says:  *'  Come  on,  le'  's  go  out 
and  have  a  snowball !  " 

We  all  put  our  dinner  pails  on  the  shelf  in  the  cor 
ner,  and  go  out.  We  stop  in  the  entry  to  get  a  drink. 
It  takes  quite  a  while,  because  there  is  only  one 
dipper. 

It  is  thawing  a  little,  and  the  snow  packs.  We 
begin  to  snowball.  Dan  and  Frank  are  going  to 
choose  sides  as  soon  as  Tip  and  Georgie  come  back. 

We  hear  sleigh  bells.  Dan  says :  "  Here  comes  a 
bob !  Come  ahead,  le'  's  bounce  her !  " 

We  all  run  out  to  the  road.  The  bob  comes  jing 
ling  up.  It  is  Lije's  father. 

Frank  says  to  Lije:  "  Dast  we  get  on?  Will  he 
care  ?  " 

Lije  says  :     "  Naw,  he  won't  mind  !  " 

We  all  look  up  at  Lije's  father  to  see  whether  he 
will  care.  Then  we  jump  on.  We  start  up  the  east 
road  toward  Lije's  house.  When  we  go  by  Georgie's, 
he  runs  out  yelling  with  his  sled,  and  hitches  on  be 
hind. 

We  ride  a  long  way.  We  jump  off  and  on  when 
the  horses  trot.  We  go  almost  as  far  as  Lije's. 

We  hear  bells  ahead.  Lije  says:  "Hear  that? 
They  's  a  cutter  comin'.  We  '11  get  a  ride  back." 

John  Malone  is  in  the  cutter.  We  yell :  "  Give 
us  a  ride  ?  " 

17 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

John  says :  "  On  wid  ye ! "  He  is  smoking  his 
old  clay  pipe  upside  down,  the  way  he  always  does. 

We  catch  on  to  the  sides  and  back.  Some  of  us 
sit  on  the  edge,  and  some  of  us  stand  on  the  runners. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  snow,  and  sometimes  it 
catches  our  feet  and  pushes  them  off.  Georgie  gets 
hitched  on  behind  again. 

When  we  are  near  the  schoolhouse,  all  of  a  sudden 
John  whips  up.  We  know  what  that  means.  He 
wants  to  sling  us.  We  don't  care.  There  is  so 
much  snow  it  won't  hurt. 

We  go  flying  down  the  road  toward  the  church. 
We  meet  Tip  just  coming  back  from  dinner,  and  he 
runs  along  and  tries  to  get  on.  He  just  gets  hold, 
but  the  cutter  is  going  so  fast  it  throws  him  in  the 
snow.  We  all  laugh  and  yell.  Tip  gets  up  all  cov 
ered  with  white,  and  begins  to  brush  off. 

All  of  a  sudden  John  grabs  my  cap.  The  rest  see 
him  do  it,  and  all  jump  off.  They  are  afraid  John 
will  be  after  theirs,  toe.  Lije  goes  head  over  heels. 
We  go  whizzing  past  the  church  toward  our  house. 

I  stop  laughing.  I  say :  "  Aw,  John,  gimme  my 
cap ! " 

John  laughs.  He  says :  "  I  'm  goin'  to  take  ye 
clean  past  your  house  down  to  the  depot." 

I  begin  to  tease.  We  are  away  down  the  church 
hill  now.  I  keep  saying:  "Come  on,  John,  gimme 
my  cap,  will  you  ?  I  '11  be  late  for  school.  Come  on ! 
John!" 

18 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Pretty  soon  John  says :  "  All  right !  There 
comes  another  bob,  and  ye  can  tackle  that  to  get 
back.  Here  ye  are !  " 

John  throws  my  cap  away  out  in  the  snow.  I 
jump  off  and  wade  out  after  it.  I  slap  it  on  my  leg, 
and  put  it  on.  It  is  a  Scotch  cap.  All  the  boys 
have  Scotch  caps  this  year. 

The  bob  comes  jingling  on.  It  is  Bradley's  bob, 
and  Uncle  Riley  is  always  good-natured.  The  Brad- 
leys  live  straight  beyond  the  schoolhouse,  a  long  way. 
There  is  a  big  tamarack  swamp  near  there.  Some 
of  the  trees  have  gum. 

I  jump  on.  When  we  get  to  the  schoolhouse, 
everybody  comes  running  out.  They  all  pile  on,  and 
we  go  jingling  up  past  Syd's. 


19 


IV 

We  Go  After  Frozen  Apples 

WE  go  jingling  along  until  we  are  almost  past 
Syd's  orchard.  There  is  a  picket  fence  for 
quite  a  way  along  the  orchard,  and  then  a  rail  fence. 
We  never  dare  go  over  in  there  in  summer  time. 
They  can  see  from  the  kitchen  window  if  any  one 
does. 

All  of  a  sudden  Tip  yells :  "  Come  on,  le'  's  get 
off  and  collar  some  o'  them  frozen  apples ! " 

Tip  jumps  off,  and  then  we  all  jump  off.  Over 
the  fence  we  see  a  tree  with  apples  on  it.  The  snow 
looks  level  and  deep  all  around.  It  has  n't  been 
broken  through  anywhere. 

We  wade  over  toward  the  tree.  The  sky  is  clear 
and  blue,  and  it  makes  the  limbs  and  apples  look 
black.  When  we  get  near,  the  apples  begin  to  look 
brown,  and  the  limbs  grey.  Once  in  a  while  there  is 
a  leaf. 

Tip  says :  "  Gimme  a  boost,  and  I  '11  shake  some 
down ! " 

We  take  hold  of  Tip's  legs,  and  boost  him.  He 
gives  the  upper  part  of  the  tree  a  good  shake,  and 
some  apples  come  down.  They  make  holes  in  the 

20 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

snow.  We  grab  them  and  wipe  the  snow  off.  We 
are  just  going  to  bite,  but  Tip  shakes  again,  and 
some  more  come  down.  We  jump  to  get  them. 

Tip  yells :  "  Mind  you  save  some  good  ones  for 
me !  You  need  n't  think  I  'm  goin'  to  do  this  for 
nothin'." 

Bill  says :  "  Aw,  we  '11  save  you  a  hull  lot.  You 
need  n't  to  worry." 

Tip  shakes  again.  Only  one  or  two  apples  come 
down.  I  get  one  of  them.  I  wipe  the  snow  off,  and 
take  a  bite.  Tip  keeps  on  shaking. 

The  apple  is  frozen  hard.  My  teeth  go  in  just  a 
little  way,  and  then  slide  along.  They  leave  white 
and  brown  furrows  on  it.  I  try  to  taste  what  I  have 
bitten  off.  It  is  n't  very  sweet,  and  it  makes  my 
teeth  and  tongue  cold. 

There  are  a  few  apples  in  the  top  of  the  tree  that 
won't  let  go.  Tip  begins  to  come  down.  He  says : 
"  No  use !  They  're  so  far  up  yander  I  can't  get  at 
'em.  Maybe  we  can  peg  snowballs  at  'em  and  fretch 
'em  down  that  way."  Tip  always  says  "  fretch " 
and  "  yander." 

We  divide  up  with  Tip,  and  stand  and  eat  a  while. 
Then  Tip  says :  "  Watch  me,  now !  "  He  packs  a 
snowball  and  lets  fly.  We  all  try  to  hit  the  apples 
that  are  left.  We  get  one  or  two,  and  go.  Our 
coat  pockets  are  full.  Bill  and  Georgie  have  their 
pants  pockets  full,  too. 

When  we  are  almost  back  to  the  schoolhouse  cor- 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

ner,  Bill  stops.  He  says :  "  Hoi'  on,  I  got  to  get 
these  here  apples  out  o'  my  pocket !  They  're  be- 
ginnin'  to  melt  on  me.  I  can  feel  'em." 

Georgie  stops,  too.     He  says :     "  So  can  I  mine." 

They  begin  to  take  the  apples  out  of  their  pants 
pockets  and  stuff  them  into  their  coat  pockets.  Their 
coat  pockets  are  so  full  already  that  it  is  all  they  can 
do  to  get  any  more  in. 

Bill  says :     "  Look  a'  here,  will  you?  " 

We  all  look.  Bill's  pants  have  two  wet  spots  on 
the  leg. 

I  say :  "  Anyhow,  they  won't  be  so  hard  to  eat  if 
they  're  thawed  a  little  like  that.  Mine  are  so  ice 
cold  they  hurt  my  teeth  like  everything." 

Bill  tries  one  of  the  wet  apples.  He  says : 
"  They  're  hard  inside,  just  the  same  as  the  rest." 

Georgie  says :  "  I  '11  tell  you  what  le'  's  do. 
Le'  's  go  in  and  thaw  'em  out  by  the  stove ! " 

Frank  says:  "  That  '11  be  just  the  thing!  Come- 
on  !  "  He  says :  "  Le'  's  see  who  '11  be  first !  "  He 
starts  to  run. 

We  run  as  hard  as  we  can  to  the  schoolhouse. 
They  all  clear  the  way  when  they  see  us.  All  our  feet 
strike  the  steps  at  almost  the  same  time.  It  makes  a 
big  rumbling  and  stamping  noise. 

We  go  piling  in  through  the  entry  and  in  by  the 
stove.  Teacher  is  there.  He  looks  at  us  and  says : 
"  Well,  anyone  'd  think  a  drove  of  colts  was  com- 
ing!" 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  put  our  apples  on  the  nickel  fender  that  runs 
around  the  stove  half  way  up.  We  put  some  on  top, 
too,  but  they  begin  to  sizzle. 

The  girls  come  and  watch  us.  The  apples  begin 
to  look  wet  and  shiny.  Pretty  soon  they  drip. 

We  begin  to  eat.  The  girls  stand  and  look  at  us. 
Gertie  turns  up  her  nose.  She  says :  "  Ain't  they 
just  as  stingy  as  they  can  be?  " 

We  laugh.  Tip  laughs,  and  smacks  his  lips.  He 
says :  "  M-m-m-m !  Ain't  they  good,  though  ?  " 

Gertie  says  to  the  girls :  "  Come  on  away ! 
Let  'em  keep  their  old  apples!  We  don't  want  any 
of  'em." 

We  all  laugh  again.  The  little  Polacks  and  Ger 
mans  come  and  beg  for  some.  When  August  and 
Heiny  get  theirs,  they  go  over  to  where  Gertie  is, 
and  say :  "  M-m-m-m !  don't  you  vish  you  hat  some, 
hey  ?  M-m-m-m !  " 

Gertie  takes  August  by  the  shoulder  and  whirls 
him  around.  She  gives  him  a  push  back  toward  us. 
She  says :  "  Get  out  with  you,  you  little  Dutch 
man!" 

By  and  by  we  give  the  girls  some  apples.  At  first 
they  say  they  won't  take  them,  but  they  change  their 
minds. 

The  outsides  are  juicy  and  sweet,  but  the  insides 
stay  hard.  Our  fingers  get  all  sweet  and  sticky. 

The  bell  is  going  to  ring  soon.  We  run  out  and 
wash  our  hands  in  snow.  We  leave  some  of  the  ap- 

23 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

pies  on  the  fender  when  we  go  to  our  seats.  We  get 
them  together  in  little  groups.  Lije  is  afraid  some 
one  will  get  his,  so  he  writes  his  name  on  a  piece  of 
paper  and  puts  it  on  them.  He  keeps  looking 
around  to  see  if  they  are  there.  It  begins  to  smell 
of  apples  all  over  the  room. 

At  recess  the  apples  are  soft  all  the  way  through. 
We  eat  some  of  them,  and  bite  holes  in  some  and  suck 
the  juice.  It  makes  us  think  of  cider,  only  it  is  n't 
so  good. 

Charley  Binzel  grabs  Heiny  and  stuffs  an  apple 
core  down  his  neck.  Charley  is  one  of  the  saloon 
keeper's  boys,  and  he  is  always  picking  on  the  little 
Polacks. 

Heiny  begins  to  cry.  August  says  to  Charley : 
"  Aw,  come  on  now,  quit  ut,  you  big  old  fool  you ! 
You  vould  n't  dast  to  take  somevone  of  your  own 
size."  August  is  Heiny's  brother,  but  he  is  only  a 
little  bit  bigger.  Heiny  has  n't  been  to  school  very 
long. 

Charley  says :  "  I  would  n't,  hey  ?  Well,  you 
just  give  me  a  little  more  lip,  and  I  '11  put  one  down 
your  neck ! " 

Charley  is  going  to  spin  August  around  by  the 
neck,  but  Gertie  goes  up  to  him  and  pushes  him 
away. 

She  says :  "  You  just  let  him  alone,  will  you,  you 
old  beer-barrel ! " 

That  makes   Charley  mad,  but  he  does  n't  dare 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

touch  Gertie.     He  knows  the  big  boy  won't  let  him. 

Syd  and  Steve  are  standing  by  the  stove  with  Jen 
nie  and  Frankie.  They  are  always  together.  At 
recess  the  big  boys  and  girls  hardly  ever  go  outside. 

My  brother  is  sitting  with  Edie  in  her  seat.  He  is 
showing  her  how  to  do  examples. 

Syd  and  Steve  look  at  my  brother  and  Edie,  and 
then  at  each  other.  Then  they  laugh.  Jennie  and 
Frankie  laugh,  too. 

Syd  puts  his  hand  over  his  mouth,  and  looks  up 
at  the  ceiling.  He  says :  "  A-hem-m-m !  "  Steve 
does  it,  too.  Then  they  all  look  at  my  brother  and 
Edie  and  laugh.  Steve  laughs  through  his  nose,  with 
his  mouth  shut.  He  makes  a  snorting  kind  of  noise. 
My  father  calls  it  smudging. 

My  brother  does  n't  look  up,  but  he  moves  a  little, 
and  looks  bashful.  Edie's  face  gets  red. 


25 


Mr.  White  and  Grandpa  Tyler  Talk  Politics 
at  the  Store 

MY  father  pushes  his  chair  back  from  the  supper 
table.  He  says  to  my  mother :  "  Le'  's  see, 
didn't  you  say  you  wanted  the  clothes  brought  in? 
I  s'pose  they  're  dry  by  this  time,  ain't  they?  " 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  I  should  hope  so ! 
They  've  been  out  since  half  past  six  this  morning." 

My  mother  always  washes  Monday  morning.  My 
father  gets  up  early  to  help  her,  and  my  brother  has 
to  get  up  early  and  do  the  chores  alone.  This  morn 
ing  he  had  to  shovel  a  path  along  the  clothesline. 

My  mother  has  the  clothes  out  before  breakfast 
every  time.  The  neighbors  say  they  would  n't  know 
what  to  make  of  it  if  there  was  a  Monday  morning 
without  her  clothes  out  on  the  line  by  half  past  six. 

My  father  comes  in  with  the  basket  heaping  full. 
He  sets  it  on  the  kitchen  table.  My  mother  says 
she  '11  sprinkle  them  the  last  thing  before  going  to 
bed. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  go  down  to 
the  store  and  get  the  mail.  I  should  n't  wonder  if 

26 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  'd  have  a  chance  to  give  a  few  more  invitations, 
too." 

I  say  to  my  father :     "  Can  I  go  too  ?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  I  s'pose  so,  if  your  ma  '11 
let  you.  Maybe  you  '11  get  your  Companion,  too. 
I  s'pose  it  was  the  storm  Saturday  that  made  it  late." 

I  get  my  Scotch  cap  and  my  comforter  and  mit 
tens.  I  tie  the  comforter  around  my  neck,  and  but 
ton  the  ends  under  my  coat.  The  comforter  is  blue 
and  white,  with  a  couple  of  red  streaks,  and  the  ends 
are  fringed.  They  stick  out  from  under  the  bottom 
of  my  coat. 

We  go  past  Uncle  Anthony's  and  down  the  road. 
Then  we  go  past  Mr.  White's  and  Johnnie's  and  come 
to  where  the  depot  hill  begins. 

Down  at  the  bottom  of  the  depot  hill  we  can  see 
the  depot  lights.  There  are  two  or  three  red  lights. 
Those  are  the  switches.  We  can  see  the  light  from 
the  store  windows  shining  on  the  snow  in  the  road. 
The  saloons  just  the  other  side  of  the  store  have  all 
their  windows  lighted. 

My  father  says :  "  You  see,  the  saloons  are  al 
ways  sure  to  have  nice,  bright  lights." 

Pretty  soon  he  says :  **  You  must  never  go  into  a 
saloon,  or  have  anything  to  do  with  'em.  It  don't 
pay." 

I  look  across  to  where  Bill  Doran  lives.  I  say: 
"  I  'd  hate  to  be  Barney  or  Jake." 

I  think  of  the  fight  I  saw  them  have  in  the  road 
27 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

once  between  the  two  saloons,  when  they  had  the 
dance  at  Weber's.  They  tore  each  other's  shirts  off, 
and  were  all  scratched  and  bloody. 

My  father  says :     "  Well,  I  guess  you  would  n't !  " 

Over  beyond  the  depot  we  can  see  a  light  on  the 
hill  where  Grandpa  Tyler  lives.  It  looks  all  dark 
away  up  beyond  his  house.  The  north  burying 
ground  is  up  there.  That  is  the  highest  place  of  all. 

My  father  says :  "  I  wonder  if  Tyler  and  some  of 
'em  won't  be  down  to-night.  I  hope  so." 

We  cross  the  tracks,  and  go  up  the  store  steps. 
My  father  opens  the  door,  and  we  go  in. 

Mr.  White  is  standing  at  the  opening  in  the  coun 
ter,  opposite  the  stove.  He  is  a  little  man,  and 
always  chewing  tobacco.  Grandpa  Tyler  is  sitting 
on  the  soap  box  behind  the  stove,  with  his  back 
against  the  wall.  Gottlieb  is  on  another  box.  His 
is  a  cracker  box. 

They  all  say  good  evening  to  my  father.  My 
father  says :  "  Good  evenin',  White !  Evenin',  Ty ! 
Evenin',  Godlip!"  Lots  of  people  say  Godlip  in 
stead  of  Gottlieb.  He  is  the  blacksmith. 

Mr.  White  goes  around  to  the  mail  case.  It 
stands  on  the  counter  by  the  front  window,  and  the 
back  of  it  is  toward  us.  It  is  all  full  of  places  with 
letters  over  them.  It  is  the  case  my  father  made,  a 
long  time  ago,  when  he  was  station  agent,  and  post 
master,  and  storekeeper,  and  the  place  was  just 
settled. 

28 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Mr.  White  says :  "  I  s'pose  you  want  your  mail, 
don't  you  ?  "  He  takes  everything  out  of  the  box 
that  has  our  letter  over  it,  and  begins  to  look  it  over. 
He  says  to  me :  "  Here  's  your  Companion  that  you 
did  n't  get  Saturday."  He  says  to  my  father : 
"  And  here  's  your  old  Patriot  —  and  I  hope  it  '11  do 
ye  lots  o'  good !  " 

Grandpa  Tyler  winks  at  my  father.  He  says  to 
Mr.  White :  "Ephram,  what 's  the  matter  with  the 
Patriot,  I  'd  like  to  know?  Ain't  it  jest  chuck  full  o' 
good,  sound,  republican  gospel?  It's  better 'n  any 
o'  your  old  democrat  papers,  anyhow." 

Mr.  White's  cheeks  and  upper  lip  are  smooth,  but 
he  has  long  grey  whiskers.  He  has  little,  bright 
eyes.  He  always  makes  me  think  of  the  pictures  of 
Uncle  Sam,  only  he  is  n't  tall  enough. 

There  is  a  box  full  of  ashes  where  Gottlieb  is  sit 
ting.  Mr.  White  walks  over  to  it  every  little  while, 
and  spits.  He  chews  fine  cut. 

He  says :  "  Well,  all  I  c'n  say  is,  if  I  liked  a  paper 
like  that  one  the  way  you  fellows  do,  I  'd  never  own 
up  to  it.  I  would  n't  be  found  dead  with  one  of  'em 
in  my  house !  " 

My  father  looks  at  Grandpa  Tyler.  Grandpa 
Tyler  winks  again.  He  says :  "  Ain't  it  awful,  the 
way  the  ol'  cuss  takes  on  ?  " 

Grandpa  Tyler  keeps  running  his  hands  down  over 
his  long,  white  whiskers.  My  father  says  he  is  proud 
of  his  whiskers.  But  he  says  "he  would  n't  have  'em 

29 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

long  like  that.  He  says  they  are  always  catching 
dust  and  chaff,  and  getting  yellow. 

Pretty  soon  Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  By  godfrey, 
Hi,  I  'd  hate  awful  to  be  a  democrat  —  would  n't 
you  ?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  specially  since  there  's 
goin'  to  be  another  'lection  this  fall.  There  '11  be 
four  years  more  o'  misery  for  'em,  and  no  help 
for  it!" 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Serves  'em  right  for  be- 
longin'  to  sech  a  party,  's  what  I  say ! " 

Mr.  White  lifts  up  one  hand.  He  always  does  that 
way  when  he  is  going  to  start  in  on  politics.  He 
says:  "  You  c'n  save  your  pity  for  yourselves,  after 
next  November ! "  He  steps  out  into  the  middle  of 
the  floor.  Grandpa  Tyler  winks  at  my  father  and 
Gottlieb. 

Mr.  White  begins  again.  He  says :  "  No  sir,  you 
need  n't  pity  no  democrat !  I  tell  ye,  they  're  the 
salt  o'  the  earth!  The  democrat  party  is  the  only 
party  that  has  ever  had  a  principle,  or  that  has  a 
principle  to-day.  It 's  the  only  party  that  has  been 
kep'  alive  by  principle  since  the  days  of  Thomas 
Jefferson.  The  democrat  party  has  buried  every 
party  that  has  rose  against  it  so  far,  and,  by  god 
frey,  next  November  it  '11  bury  your  old  republican 
party !  It  '11  bury  it  so  deep  't  none  o'  you  fellers  '11 
ever  — " 

Grandpa  Tyler  breaks  in  on  him.  He  says : 
30 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  come,  Eph !  Anybody  might 
think  you  was  meanin'  what  you  said !  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Well  you  c'n  bet  your  bottom 
dollar  I  do  mean  it,  every  word  of  it !  And  what 's 
more,  next  November,  the  first  Tuesday  after  the 
first  Monday,  you  '11  find  out  it 's  all  gospel  truth !  " 

Mr.  White  leans  over  the  ash  box  and  spits  again. 
He  says :  "  I  can  feel  it,  I  can  feel  it  in  my  bones ! 
They  's  a-goin'  to  be  such  a  wakin'  up  o'  the  dead  an' 
such  a  rattlin'  o'  dry  bones  as  you  never  heard  of  in 
all  your  born  days,  you  just  mark  my  words !  " 


31 


VI 

My  Father  Talks  with  Old  Neighbors,  and, Asks 
Them  to  the  Dance 

THE  door  opens.  We  all  look  to  see  who  is  com 
ing  in.  Mr.  White  stops  talking.  He  says : 
"  Hello,  'nother  country  heard  from !  " 

Old  Shed  Williams  comes  in.  He  has  a  knotty  old 
cane.  His  cap  is  pulled  down  over  his  ears,  and  he 
has  a  big  comforter  around  his  neck.  He  takes  his 
mittens  off.  His  hands  and  face  are  awfully  hairy. 
His  real  name  is  Sheridan,  and  he  lives  up  the  marsh 
road  near  the  river.  We  all  know  he  '11  begin  to  say 
"  don't  y'  know." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Well,  well,  who  'd  a  thought 
you  'd  get  down  here  this  cold  night?  Does  your 
mother  know  you  're  out?  I  sh'd  think  your  folks  'd 
worry  about  you." 

Old  Shed  says :  "  Oh,  go  'long  with  ye,  don't  y' 
know,  't  ain't  so  awful  cold,  don't  y'  know.  I  thought 
I  'd  come  down,  don't  y'  know,  an'  get  my  paper  an' 
see  if  they  was  n't  somethin'  goin'  on,  don't  y'  know." 

He  goes  over  to  the  stove.  He  says :  "  But  don't 
y'  know  I  thought  I  heard  ye  talkin',  Ephram,  don't 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

y'  know.  Politics,  I  s'pose.  That 's  about  all  ye 
know  to  talk  about.  I  declare,  I  never  see  such  a 
man  for  politics,  don't  y'  know ! " 

Old  Shed's  voice  is  thin,  and  he  is  almost  as  slow 
as  Uncle  Anthony. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  You  know  what,  Shed  ? 
He  's  jest  been  tellin'  us  they  's  goin'  to  be  a  democrat 
president  next  time." 

Old  Shed  says:  "Well,  don't  y'  know,  all  I  can 
say,  don't  y'  know,  is  't  I  'm  awful  sorry  for  him. 
He  '11  get  terrible  fooled,  don't  y'  know !  " 

Mr.  White  goes  over  to  the  ash  box  again.  He 
stops  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  waves  his  hand. 
His  voice  sounds  as  if  he  were  making  a  speech  in 
front  of  a  whole  lot  of  people.  He  says :  "  Not  a 
bit  of  it  this  time !  This  time  we  're  a-goin'  to  fix  ye 
up  for  good  and  all !  You  '11  be  callin'  on  the  sun, 
moon,  an'  stars  not  to  shine,  an'  for  the  rocks  to  fall 
on  ye  and  hide  ye !  " 

Mr.  White  waves  his  hand  again.  He  puts  the 
thumb  of  his  other  hand  in  the  arm  hole  of  his  vest, 
and  begins  to  walk  up  and  down  in  front  of  old  Shed. 
He  says:  "It's  a-comin',  I  tell  ye,  I  c'n  feel  it! 
We  '11  show  you  whether  they  's  a  god  in  Israel  or 
not !  Why,  you  won't  be  down  after  the  mail  again 
after  'lection  for  six  weeks,  you  '11  be  feelin'  so 
shamed  o'  yourselves  for  votin'  the  republican 
ticket!" 

Old  Shed  says :  "  Oh,  come  on  here  an'  get  me  my 
33 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

mail,  don't  y'  know,  an'  stop  talkin'  such  nonsense! 
That 's  the  way  you  been  talkin',  don't  y'  know,  be 
fore  every  'lection  since  the  war." 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  Eph,  go  and  get  his  mail 
for  him,  and  maybe  by  that  time  you  '11  cool  off 
again." 

Mr.  White  tosses  out  the  Patriot,  and  comes  and 
stands  in  the  opening  of  the  counter  again. 

Gottlieb  gets  up  to  go.  Mr.  White  says : 
"  There,  there,  Godlip,  don't  go  off  mad  that  way !  " 

We  all  know  he  is  going  to  joke  Gottlieb.  He  is 
always  doing  that.  Gottlieb  never  understands. 

Gottlieb  stops  and  turns  around.  He  looks  puz 
zled.  He  says:  "Who  tolt  you  I  vos  mat,  hey? 
I  ain't  needer  mat !  You  must  been  mat  yourselluf !  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Well  then,  all  right,  never 
mind !  I  kind  o'  thought  your  back  looked  that  way, 
that 's  all." 

Gottlieb  says :  "  Yes,  dot 's  anodder  of  your  fool 
ish  Yankee  chokes.  I  know  vot  ut  iss.  You  don't 
need  to  tink  you  can  fool  me  already !  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Keep  cool,  Godlip,  keep  cool, 
keep  cool !  Never  allow  that  temper  of  yours  to  get 
the  upper  hand  of  ye." 

Gottlieb  looks  sulky.  He  says :  "  I  don't  haf  to 
keep  cool,  now,  you  know  ut?  I  'm  chust  as  cool  as 
v'at  you  are,  uf  you  vant  to  know  ut ! " 

Mr.  White  says:  "Now  just  look  at  him,  how 
mad  he  gets,  will  you?  You  can't  say  the  least  little 

34 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

word  to  him  but  he  flares  up  just  like  that.  I  tell 
you  he  's  awful  dangerous,  specially  when  irritated 
with  a  long  pole." 

Gottlieb  tries  to  laugh,  but  he  looks  sulkier  than 
ever.  He  says :  "  You  shut  up  your  Yankee  mout' ! 
You  don't  know  so  wery  much,  ennahow ! " 

Gottlieb  opens  the  door  and  starts  to  go.  Mr. 
White  calls  after  him :  "  Now,  Godlip,  go  home  and 
give  your  feet  a  good  soakin'  the  last  thing  before 
you  go  to  bed.  It  '11  draw  the  blood  down  out  o' 
your  head." 

Gottlieb  bangs  the  door.  Grandpa  Tyler  says: 
"  Eph,  ain't  ye  kind  o'  hard  on  Godlip?  You 
ort  n't  to  make  such  fun  of  him.  He  don't  know  how 
to  take  it." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Oh,  Tie  knows  it 's  all  in  fun ! 
He  '11  be  all  right  next  time  he  comes  in  !  "  He  takes 
out  his  tobacco  box,  and  gets  ready  to  take  another 
chew. 

Old  Shed  says :  "  Slammed  the  door,  don't  y' 
know,  's  if  he  was  real  mad,  did  n't  he?  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Oh,  he  does  that  lots  o'  times. 
He  '11  be  all  right  by  to-morrow  night." 

He  steps  over  to  the  ash  box,  and  leans  over  and 
lets  the  old  chew  fall.  Then  he  begins  to  get  another 
out  of  the  tobacco  box.  It  takes  him  quite  a  while, 
because  fine  cut  hangs  together.  The  tobacco  box 
is  smooth  and  shiny.  He  puts  it  back  in  his  pants 
pocket. 

35 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :  *'  I  was  hopin'  I  'd  see  some  of 
you  down  here  to-night.  I  want  to  invite  you  and 
your  women  folks  to  our  house  to  a  dance  next  Sat 
urday  night.  It 's  been  most  a  year  now  since  we 
had  one." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  You  —  don't  —  say  ! 
By  godfrey,  don't  it  beat  everything  the  way  he  keeps 
it  up?  Here  he  is,  over  sixty,  and  dancin'  yet !  I  'd 
like  to  know  what  he  thinks  '11  happen  to  him  after 
he  dies." 

They  laugh  at  my  father.  Old  Shed  says  :  "  Yes, 
an'  invitin'  of  us  old  fellers,  too,  don't  y'  know.  It  '11 
be  a  great  dance,  don't  y'  know,  if  he  depends  on  us 
to  do  the  dancin'." 

My  father  says :  "  0'  course,  I  know  the  younger 
folks  '11  do  most  of  the  dancin',  but  I  want  you  old 
folks  to  be  there  too.  We  can  play  cards  and  look 
on,  and  have  just  as  much  fun  as  the  rest." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  you  can  depend  on 
me  yit,  by  godfrey,  when  it  comes  to  a  party  where 
they 's  a  hand  o'  cards.  We  '11  be  there,  fast 
enough." 

Grandpa  Tyler  strokes  his  whiskers.  He  says: 
"  Hi,  I  'm  glad  ye  keep  it  up,  even  if  't  ain't  but  once 
a  year." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  It 's  been  a  mighty  good  thing 
for  us  all.  You  can  count  on  us,  too,  but  o'  course 
I  can't  come  till  I  've  locked  up." 

My  father  says :  "  Of  course.  But  that  won't 
36 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

matter.  You  '11  be  in  plenty  of  time."  He  starts 
toward  the  door.  I  follow  him. 

My  father  stops  with  his  hand  on  the  door  latch. 
He  turns  and  says :  "  All  right,  then,  we  '11  be  ex- 
pectin'  you." 

We  go  up  the  hill.  My  father  says :  "  Now  I  '11 
send  word  by  Speckle  to  some  more  to-morrow,  and 
we  '11  soon  have  'em  all  invited." 

My  father  and  mother  often  call  my  brother 
Speckle.  That 's  because  he  has  freckles.  They 
hardly  ever  call  him  by  his  real  name.  I  call 
him  Ted  sometimes,  but  not  even  that  is  his  real 
name. 

When  we  get  home,  I  go  right  out  to  where  my 
mother  is.  She  is  sprinkling  the  clothes  on  the 
kitchen  table.  The  folks  that  visit  us  from  Town 
always  say  "  dining-room,"  instead  of  "  kitchen." 
We  laugh  about  it  when  they  are  gone. 

My  mother  puts  her  hand  in  the  basin  of  water, 
and  then  shakes  it  over  the  clothes.  Then  she  rolls 
the  clothes  up  tight  and  puts  them  back  in  the  basket. 
She  is  going  to  iron  to-morrow  morning.  She  always 
irons  Tuesday  morning. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  see  your  Companion 's  come, 
so  I  s'pose  you  feel  better." 

I  sit  down  and  begin  to  read  the  continued  story 
on  the  front  page. 

My  mother  says :  "  As  soon  as  you  get  to  a  good 
stopping  place  you  must  go  to  bed.  It 's  almost  nine 

37 


55310 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

now.  By  the  time  you  've  got  it  finished  I  '11  be  ready 
to  put  the  light  on  the  stairs  for  you." 

I  read  a  while.  It  is  about  a  boy  and  a  girl  skat 
ing,  and  the  girl  breaks  through  and  has  to  be 
rescued. 

I  say:     "  Where  's  Ted  ?" 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  the  last  /  saw  of  him, 
he  was  starting  up  the  road.  Maybe  you  can  guess 
where  he  is." 

I  say :  "  Oh,  he 's  always  going  up  to  Edie's, 
ain't  he?" 

I  kiss  my  mother  good  night,  and  then  go  in  and 
kiss  my  father.  My  father  is  sitting  by  the  stove 
again,  with  his  legs  stretched  out,  reading  Dombey 
and  Son. 

I  run  up  stairs  past  the  lamp,  and  get  into  bed. 
Pretty  soon  I  begin  to  feel  like  going  to  sleep.  I 
hear  my  mother  come  to  the  stair  door  and  reach 
for  the  lamp.  Then  it  gets  dark. 


38 


VII 

Everybody  Comes,  and  Johnnie  Forms  On 

MY  mother  says :     "  Gracious  me !  don't  he  look 
all  dressed  up,  though  ?  " 

We  all  look  at  my  father.  He  has  his  broadcloth 
coat  on,  and  his  velvet  vest  and  fine  boots.  He  has 
his  whiskers  trimmed,  and  his  hair  slicked.  He  al 
ways  tells  us  he  has  had  that  coat  and  vest  fourteen 
years.  The  vest  has  little  flowers  on  it. 

My  mother  has  her  best  dress  on,  too.  She  has 
a  ruche  around  her  neck,  and  her  gold  watch-chain 
is  around  her  shoulders  and  hanging  down  in  front. 
Her  ear-rings  have  little  black  stones  set  in  the 
borders.  She  has  the  big  cameo  on.  The  cameo  has 
a  white  house  in  a  yard,  and  a  girl  walking  there. 

My  brother  and  I  are  dressed  up,  too,  only  my 
brother  has  overalls  on.  He  has  to  take  care  of  the 
teams. 

We  have  the  lamps  all  lighted,  and  a  good,  hot  fire. 
The  parlor  is  all  lighted  up  and  warm,  too.  The 
stair  door  is  open,  so  the  heat  will  go  up  there.  They 
are  going  to  dance  up  in  the  big  room. 

The  kitchen  table  is  pulled  out,  with  the  leaves  up. 
My  brother  is  sitting  by  the  south  window,  holding 
the  lantern  between  his  knees.  He  has  just  put  his 
cap  and  mittens  on. 

39 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  hear  sleigh  bells  up  the  road.  My  father  says : 
"  They  're  beginning  to  come !  "  My  brother  gets 
up  and  goes  out  to  the  woodshed  door. 

The  sleigh  bells  come  jingling  along  until  we  know 
they  are  almost  in  front  of  the  house.  Then  they 
are  n't  so  loud.  Pretty  soon  we  hear  them  right  near 
the  house.  The  runners  make  a  sort  of  hard,  grind 
ing  sound.  They  always  sound  that  way  when  it  is 
cold. 

The  sleigh  bumps  against  the  plank  out  by  the 
door.  We  hear  somebody  say :  "  Who-o-oa !  Here 
we  are !  Pile  out ! " 


40 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

They  come  stamping  in,  saying  good  evening, 
and  laughing,  and  shaking  hands.  They  begin  to 
take  off  their  overshoes  and  overcoats  and  comfort 
ers,  and  to  pile  them  on  the  chairs  next  to  the  wall. 
The  women  put  some  packages  done  up  in  newspapers 
on  the  table. 

I  know  what  is  in  the  packages.  It  is  frosted  cake, 
and  pie,  and  things  like  that.  I  hope  I  can  stay  up 
long  enough  to  have  some,  but  if  I  don't  I  know  my 
mother  will  save  some  out  for  me. 

They  all  go  into  the  front  room.  Then  more  peo 
ple  come.  Some  come  afoot.  Grandpa  Tyler  and 
Mrs.  Tyler  and  Johnnie  come  together  from  down 
the  road.  Johnnie  is  day  operator.  Mrs.  Tyler  is 
a  little  woman. 

My  mother  helps  Mrs.  Tyler  take  off  her  cloak 
and  things.  She  says :  "  Well,  where  are  you,  any 
way,  Mrs.  Tyler?  You  're  so  little  I  can  hardly  find 
you  among  all  your  wraps." 

Mrs.  Tyler  laughs.  She  has  a  thin  little  voice. 
She  says :  "  Well,  you  know  precious  stuff  is  gen'lly 
put  up  in  small  packages." 

I  think  of  what  my  father  said  one  day.  He  said : 
"  She  's  little,  but  O  my!" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Purdy  come  from  the  other  way,  and 
pretty  soon  Uncle  Anthony  and  Aunt  Phoebe  and 
Milt.  Syd  and  Steve  will  be  along  with  Jennie  and 
Frankie  after  a  while. 

Mr.  Purdy  says:  "Hi,  jest  let  me  step  outside 
41 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

afore  I  set  down.     I  got  to  git  red  o'  this  here  chaw 
o'  terbacker,  or  I  won't  be  comf  table." 

My  father  laughs.  He  says :  "  I  s'pose  it  '11  be 
kind  o'  hard  on  some  of  you,  goin'  without  tobacco  a 
whole  evenin',  but  you  ought  to  be  able  to  stan'  it  for 
just  once." 

Mr.  Purdy  says :  "  Oh,  I  guess  we  can  manage  to 
git  along." 

Mrs.  Purdy  says :  "  'T  would  be  a  good  thing  for 
ye  if  ye  had  to  do  it  oftener,  /  think." 

The  sitting  room  and  the  parlor  are  almost  full 
now. 

Grandpa  Tyler  pulls  out  his  watch.  He  says : 
"  Well,  Hi,  where  's  them  there  fiddlers  o'  yourn  ? 
Ain't  it  'bout  time  they  was  turnin'  up?  " 

My  father  says :  "  I  don't  know  but  't  is  time 
for  'em." 

We  hear  a  great  jingling  of  bells.  Johnnie  says: 
"  I  bet  that 's  them !  "  He  runs  to  the  door.  He 
says :  "  Yah,  here  they  come,  sure  's  you  're  alive !  " 

We  hear  them  stamping  and  taking  off  their 
things.  Then  we  hear  the  bells  again,  and  I  know 
my  brother  is  taking  the  horses  off  to  the  barn. 

The  fiddlers  come  in.  Addie  is  with  them.  One 
of  the  fiddlers  is  her  father.  The  other  is  a  sort 
of  cousin. 

They  have  their  fiddle  boxes  in  their  hands.  Their 
cheeks  are  red,  and  Lon  has  icicles  on  his  moustache. 
They  begin  to  warm  their  hands  at  the  stove. 

42 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Hey,  Lon,  what  ye  got  in 
that  there  box?  A  baby?  " 

Everybody  laughs.  Someone  always  says  that 
when  there  is  a  dance,  and  they  always  laugh. 

Lon  plays  first  fiddle,  and  old  Ledley  plays  sec 
ond.  They  always  play  together  at  dances.  Lon  is 
younger.  He  can  call  off  while  he  plays.  His  voice 
has  a  twang  in  it  that  some  of  them  make  fun  of. 


15* 


Mr.  Ledley  is  English.  He  has  a  big,  round  face, 
and  grey  hair.  His  face  is  shaved,  but  he  has  whis 
kers  all  around  the  edge.  They  make  me  think  of 
fringe. 

They  all  talk  and  laugh.  Lon  and  old  Ledley  keep 
rubbing  their  hands  together. 

43 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  'Lonzo,  ain't  it 
about  time  to  tune  up?  Seems  to  me  them  fingers  o' 
yourn  ort  to  be  limbered  up  by  this  time,  ort  n't 
they?" 

Lon  says :  "  Jes'  's  you  folks  say  !  Maybe  't  is 
time." 

He  says  to  Mr.  Ledley :  "  All  right,  Ledley, 
s'posen'  we  go  up." 

They  start  up  stairs.  We  can  hear  them  in  the 
big  room,  tuning  up.  They  pick  the  strings,  and 
we  can  hear  the  pegs  snap  when  they  screw  them  up. 
Then  we  hear  a  lot  of  broad  strokes  on  the  two  big 
strings,  and  a  lot  of  little  notes  up  and  down  on  the 
little  strings.  They  are  getting  their  fingers  used 
to  it. 

Lon  calls  out :     "  All  right,  Johnnie,  form  on !  " 

Johnnie  jumps  up.  He  says  good  and  loud,  so 
everybody  can  hear:  "  Choo-ose  you-u-ur  pardners 
for  a  quadrille !  " 

Syd  and  Steve  and  the  girls  go  right  up.  Johnnie 
goes  up,  too,  and  some  others.  Pretty  soon  we  hear 
him  call  again :  "  Fo-our  more  couples  wanted ! 
Form  on !  "  They  are  going  to  have  two  sets. 

A  few  more  go  up,  and  then  Johnnie  calls : 
"  0-one  more  couple  wanted  !  " 

I  run  up  stairs.     I  want  to  see  them  begin. 

They  are  waiting  for  the  one  more  couple.  My 
mother  says  to  my  brother :  "  Come  on,  old  Speckle, 
let 's  you  and  I  help  'em  out.  You  can  take  me  for 

44 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


Her    mother    is    a 


your  girl  to-night,  seeing  you  can't  do  any  better." 
My  brother  gets  up  and  stands  with  my  mother.  His 
face  gets  red. 

Of    course    Edie    is  n't    here, 
churchmember  and  does  n't  be 
lieve   in   dancing,   even   if  she 
liked  to  have  Edie  go  with  my 
brother. 

I  sit  on  one  of  the  benches. 
They  are  on  both  sides,  along 
the  wall.  If  I  stand  up  on 
one  of  them,  my  head  comes 
up  to  where  the  ceiling  begins 
to  slant. 

My  father  says  when  he 
built  our  house  he  had  the  big 
room  made  on  purpose  for 
dances.  There  is  a  big  white 
desk  in  one  corner.  The  sit 
ting  room  stovepipe  runs  up 
through  the  other  end.  We  keep  the  popcorn  and 
beans  in  the  corner  there.  The  windows  are  just 
over  the  veranda  roof. 


VIII 


My  Mother  and  Father  Take  Part  m  the 
Old  Dances 

LON  and  old  Ledley  sit  in  the  corner  by  the  desk. 
Old  Ledley  is  behind  it. 

They  tune  up  a  little  more,  and  then  they  stop  and 

wait.  Then  Lon 
raps  the  back  of  his 
fiddle  with  the  bow, 
and  calls  out : 
"  Pla-a-a-ces  all !  " 

Everybody 
stands  ready.  Lon 
calls:  "  A-a-all 
dance !  "  He  begins 
The  Campbells  Are 
Coming.  Every 
body  begins  to 
tread  up  and  down.  Pretty  soon  Lon  calls :  "  Sa- 
a-lu-u-ute  you-u-ur  pardners !  "  Everybody  bows. 
The  partners  bow  to  each  other,  and  then  to  the 
rest. 

The  dancing  up  and  down  and  the  saluting  are  only 
46 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

to  begin  with.  Then  Lon  calls :  "  Head  lady  and 
foot  gent,  forward  a-a-and  back ! "  and  things  like 
that. 

They  all  look  good-natured  and  happy.  Their 
ejres  sparkle.  They  do  a  lot  of  different  calls.  I 
don't  see  how  Lon  can  remember  them  all.  There 
is  "  right-hand-'round,"  and  "  left-hand-'round,"  and 
"  lady-in-the-center-and-three-hands-'round,"  and 
"  do-cee-do,"  and  "  al-a-mend-left,"  and  "  grand- 
right-and-left,"  and  "  a-all  sasha-a-ay,"  artd  "  prom 
enade-all,"  and  "  swing-your-pardners,"  and 
"  cheat."  I  keep  wondering  how  they  can  do  it  all 
without  getting  mixed  up.  Sometimes  they  do  get 
mixed  up. 

The  sound  of  the  music  and  the  treading  of  their 
feet  make  me  feel  warm  and  happy.  I  wish  I  could 
dance,  too.  Everybody  is  laughing  or  smiling. 
They  like  Lon's  tunes  and  his  calling  off. 

Every  time  they  get  through  with  a  figure,  they 
stand  still  a  minute.  They  look  at  each  other,  and 
talk  and  laugh.  Steve  and  Syd  make  lots  of  fun 
joking  the  girls,  and  joking  my  brother  about  Edie. 
Then  Lon  begins  a  new  tune.  Sometimes  he  says 
"  Ba-al-ance  all,"  instead  of  "  A-a-all  dance,"  but  it 
means  the  same  thing. 

When  they  are  through  with  the  last  figure,  Lon 
calls  out :  "  Se-eat  you-u-ur  pardners ! "  Then 
everybody  sits  down  on  the  benches. 

My  mother  is  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  I 
47 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

want  to  go  over  there,  but  I  am  afraid,  because  I 
think  everybody  will  look  at  me.  My  mother  is  al 
ways  telling  me  I  am  too  bashful. 

My  mother  makes  a  sign  to  me  to  come  and  sit 
down  by  her.     I  put  my  hands  on  the  bench  and  lean 


back.     I  twist  my  toes  together,  and  shake  my  head. 
But  after  a  while  I  get  up  and  walk  across. 

I  keep  looking  at  the  floor  while  I  go.  I  don't  dare 
look  up.  The  floor  seems  to  rise  up  almost  to  my 
face,  and  my  cheeks  feel  warm.  It  is  a  long  way 
across.  Everyone  is  talking,  but  I  am  afraid  they 
will  all  stop  and  look  at  me. 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  are  you  going  to  be  my 
partner  after  a  while  ?  " 

48 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  say :  "  I  do'  want  to."  I  don't  know  how  I 
could  ever  get  up  and  dance  in  front  of  everybody. 

My  mother  says :  "  Oh,  yes,  you  'd  better !  They 
won't  mind  if  you  make  a  mistake.  I  '11  tell  you  what 
to  do." 

But  I  sit  back  and  say :     "  No,  I  do'  want  to." 

My  mother  says :  "  All  right,  if  you  don't  feel 
like  it.  I  s'pose  after  all  you  're  pretty  small  to 
dance  yet." 

Johnnie  gets  up  and  calls  out :  "  Choo-ose  your 
partners  for  a  waltz !  "  Lon  strikes  up  The  Missis 
sippi.  When  they  got  through,  they  form  on  for 
Opera  Reel. 

Lon's  boy  and  girl  get  mixed  up.  Lon  gets  all  out 
of  patience.  He  always  does  when  they  make  mis 
takes.  He  breaks  off  playing,  and  raps  the  back  of 
the  fiddle  with  his  bow  so  hard  and  so  quick  that 
everybody  jumps  and  looks  scared. 

Lon  looks  as  cross  as  can  be.  He  snaps  out: 
"  Jack !  Myrie !  What  the  thunder  you  doin',  any 
how?  Confound  it  all,  that  ain't  no  way  to  dance!  " 

Jack  does  n't  like  it.  He  sticks  his  lips  out,  and 
grumbles.  He  says :  "  Well,  we  're  doin'  it  just  the 
way  you  called  off.  What  you  talkin'  about  ?  " 

Lon  says :  "  No  you  ain't  neither,  not  by  a  long 
shot !  "  He  gets  up  and  takes  Jack  by  the  arm. 
He  says :  "  Come  over  here  where  you  belong !  " 
He  talks  louder  and  crosser  than  ever.  He  says : 
"  Now,  next  time  pay  'tention  to  what  I  call  off !  " 

49 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Lon  goes  on  with  the  tune  and  the  calling  off.  He 
is  playing  The  Wrecker  s  Daughter.  Old  Mr.  Led- 
ley  calls  it  The  Wreckard's  Daughter. 

Lon  plays  Saint  Patrick's  Day  next,  and  then 
Fisher's  Hornpipe  for  the  last  figure.  I  know 
almost  all  of  Lon's  tunes  by  heart.  There  is  Sol 
dier's  Joy,  and  The  Devil's  Dream,  and  Washing 
Day,  and  Flowers  of  Edinburgh,  and  Captain  Jinks, 
and  Irish  Washerwoman,  and  a  lot  of  others. 

My  father  and  my  brother  can  play  Lon's  tunes 
on  the  fiddle,  too.  I  am  so  used  to  them  that  when 
I  am  going  anywhere  alone  I  whistle  and  hum  them, 
and  keep  step.  When  my  brother  is  turning  the 
fanning  mill,  or  churning,  or  when  the  old  mares  are 
trotting  along  to  Town,  I  can  always  hear  Lon's 
tunes.  A  good  many  of  them  have  n't  names. 

By  and  by  they  stop  again.  But  it  is  n't  very 
long  before  Johnnie  calls  out :  "  A-a-all  form  on  for 
Virginia  Reel!  " 

They  always  dance  that,  and  Money  Musk,  and 
Irish  Trot,  and  almost  always  The  Fireman's  Dance. 
They  all  have  fine,  lively  tunes,  and  everybody  has 
lots  of  fun.  I  like  to  watch  them  better  than  any 
of  the  other  dances. 

My  father  likes  Virginia  Reel  better  than  anybody 
else.  He  has  so  much  fun  that  he  forgets  everything 
except  the  dancing.  He  dances  up  and  down  so  that 
his  coat  tails  flap.  People  get  to  looking  at  him,  but 
he  does  n't  care.  My  mother  laughs.  She  leans 

50 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

over  me,  and  says :  "  Just  look  at  your  pa !  Is  n't 
he  having  a  fine  time?  See  how  his  eyes  pop 
out !  " 

My  mother  likes  Irish  Trot  the  best.  I  can  tell 
by  her  face  that  she  thinks  it  is  lots  of  fun.  But  she 
does  n't  laugh  out  loud  and  carry  on,  like  the  rest. 


She  smiles  and  sort  of  hops  along,  and  takes  little 
steps  in  between. 

Addie  sits  beside  me  while  they  dance  Irish  Trot. 
She  says :  "  Your  mother's  old-fashioned  way  of 
dancing  is  just  as  pretty  as  it  can  be.  I  wish  I  could 
dance  as  nice  as  that !  " 

51 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

All  of  a  sudden  Lon  raps  his  fiddle  again,  and  be 
gins  to  scold  Jack  some  more. 

Addie  says :  "  Now,  Alonzo,  you  ought  to  have 
more  patience  with  the  boy." 

Lon  says :     "  Patience !     Well,  'y  gosh  !  " 

They  all  laugh.  Addie  laughs,  too.  It  sounds 
queer  to  hear  anyone  call  Lon  Alonzo. 

Lon  goes  and  sits  down  again.  He  calls  out : 
"  Pla-a-ces  all !  "  He  says :  "  We  '11  try  it  once  more 
now,  and  see !  " 


IX 

/  Watch  the  Dancing,  but  Can't  Keep  Awake 
Till  Supper 

I  RUN  down  stairs  again.  I  go  down  every  little 
while.  This  time  the  clock  says  half  past  eleven. 

Grandpa  Tyler  and  Uncle  Anthony  and  Mrs. 
Purdy  and  Aunt  Phoebe  are  playing  euchre.  I  go 
and  stand  behind  Uncle  Anthony.  Mr.  White  and 
old  Shed  and  Mr.  Purdy  and  Grandma  Tyler  are  at 
another  table.  Mrs.  White  and  some  others  are 
looking  on. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  shall  we  have 
another  game?  " 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Might 's  well.  It  '11  be 
quite  a  while  yet  before  they  have  supper." 

Aunt  Phcebe  says  to  me :  "  What  be  they  dancin' 
now?" 

I  say:  "Money  Musk.  They  just  finished  Irish 
Trot." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  Ty,  we  've  danced 
them  old  dances  a  good  many  times  in  our  day,  hain't 
we?" 

Grandpa  Tyler  says:  "Well,  I  guess  we  hev! 
53 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

An'  I  declare,  I  'd  like  to  dance  'em  some  more,  but 
somehow  my  rheumatiz  is  too  much  for  me.  You 
don't  feel  a  powerful  lot  like  dancin'  when  yer  knees 
is  a  hollerin'  out  the  way  mine  does." 

Mrs.  Purdy  says :  "  Folks  don't  dance  as  much  as 
what  they  used  to  when  the  country  was  first  settled. 
When  we  first  come,  back  in  the  early  forties,  they 
used  to  be  a  dance  somewheres  every  Sat'day  night, 
jest  as  sure  as  Sat'day  night  come  'round." 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  Yes,  and  they  wa'n't  so 
many  people  then,  neither.  Don't  you  remember  how 
they  used  to  come  from  miles  and  miles  around? 
Seems  's  if  the  more  people  they  is,  the  less  sociable 
they  git." 

Mrs.  Purdy  lays  the  cards  down  in  front  of  Uncle 
Anthony.  She  says :  "  Want  to  cut  'em  ?  " 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Oh,  go  on  an'  deal !  I 
don't  b'lieve  ye  could  stack  'em  if  ye  tried." 

Mrs.  Purdy  laughs.  She  says :  "  Don't  ye  be 
too  sure  o'  that!  Maybe  I  know  more  about  the 
game  'n  what  you  think." 

Mrs.  Purdy  deals  the  cards  around.  Uncle 
Anthony  says :  "  No-o,  times  ain't  what  they  was, 
not  by  a  good  deal.  One  thing  is,  they  's  gittin'  to 
be  so  many  foreigners." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  By  godfrey,  don't  it  beat 
all,  the  way  they  're  a-comin'  in  an'  buyin'  everybody 
out  ?  I  declare  I  don't  see  what  the  country 's 
a-comin'  to.  They  's  gittin'  to  be  so  many  Dutch 

54 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

around  't  ye  can't  sleep  nights  fer  hearin'  the  wooden 
shoes  clatter." 

They  laugh.  Uncle  Anthony  does  n't  get  to  laugh 
ing  until  the  rest  are  almost  through.  It  kind  of 
spreads  over  his  face  a  little  at  a  time.  You  can  see 
it  first  in  his  eyes. 

All  of  a  sudden  Grandpa  Tyler  leans  forward  and 
says :  "  Hoi'  on  there !  What 's  trumps  ?  Wa'n't 
that  my  trick  there?  " 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  Why,  o'  course  't  is,  and  you 
better  take  it  in.  Goodness  knows,  we  need  all  we 
c'n  git." 

I  sit  down  and  watch  them  a  while  longer.  My 
brother  comes  in  and  stands  looking  on. 

Aunt  Phoebe  looks  up,  and  says :  "  Some  ways  or 
other  you  look  sort  o'  lonesome  this  evenin'.  What 's 
the  matter  of  ye?  " 

My  brother  gets  red-  He  tries  to  smile.  He 
knows  she  is  thinking  about  Edie.  As  soon  as  Aunt 
Phoebe  begins  to  play  again,  he  goes  away. 

I  begin  to  feel  sleepy.     I  run  up  stairs  again. 

They  are  all  sitting  on  the  benches,  resting  and 
talking.  I  go  in  as  quickly  as  I  can  and  sit  down 
by  my  mother.  My  mother  looks  down  at  me.  She 
says:  "Are  you  beginning  to  get  sleepy?  Don't 
you  think  you  'd  better  go  to  bed?  " 

I  say :  "  No,  I  do'  want  to.  I  want  to  stay  up 
till  supper." 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  if  you  really  want  to, 
55 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

you  can.     'T  ain't  very  often  they  come  here.     But 
I  'm  awfully  afraid  you  '11  get  sleepy." 

I  know  how  it  will  be  when  supper  comes.     Addie 
and  my  mother  and  Mrs.  Purdy  will  put  the  coffee  on, 


and  then  they  '11  unwrap  all  the  packages.  There 
will  be  biscuit  and  butter,  and  chicken,  and  sliced 
ham,  and  pickles,  and  fried  cakes,  and  pie,  and  three 
or  four  kinds  of  big,  white,  frosted  cake.  They  will 
get  out  a  lot  of  plates  and  cups,  and  pour  out  the 
coffee.  Then  they  will  all  eat  and  say  things  to  make 
each  other  laugh. 

56 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  sit  and  watch  them  dance.  They  are  dancing 
Opera  Reel  now.  It  takes  them  quite  a  while.  The 
treading  and  the  music  make  me  feel  quiet.  I  feel 
as  if  I  'd  like  to  lie  down.  My  head  begins  to  feel 
heavy,  and  my  eyes  want  to  shut.  I  sit  up  straight, 
and  open  them  as  wide  as  I  can. 

It  is  n't  very  long  before  my  eyes  want  to  shut 
again.  All  the  feet  and  legs  and  skirts  and  arms 
begin  to  look  blurred  every  little  while.  My  head 
almost  falls.  I  bring  it  up  with  a  jerk.  I  sit 
straight  up  again  and  again.  I  wish  they  would  get 
supper  right  away. 

I  get  so  sleepy  I  forget  about  everything  ex 
cept  trying  to  keep  awake.  I  forget  even  about 
supper.  I  think  of  bed,  and  how  nice  it  would  be  to 
lie  down.  I  think  of  it  again,  and  get  up  and  go 
out  and  across  to  my  bedroom,  take  my  clothes  off, 
and  get  in.  I  leave  my  clothes  right  where  they 
come  off. 

Getting  into  bed  wakes  me  up  a  little.  I  hear 
them  finish  Opera  Reel.  They  talk  a  while,  and  then 
Lon  begins  a  quadrille  tune. 

The  tune  is  one  my  father  plays  on  his  fiddle.  He 
says  the  name  of  it  is  My  Love  She  '*  but  a  Lassie 
Yet.  It  goes  "  Tum-a  f«?«-tum-tum-tum  tum-tum- 
tum,  tum-a  fwm-tum-tum-tum  turn- turn-turn  — ."  It 
is  the  tune  the  straw-carrier  always  makes  me  think 
of  when  they  are  threshing.  Every  time  I  hear  it  I 
think  of  threshing,  and  the  straw-carrier  sticking 

57 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

out  of  the  barn  door,  and  the  dust,  and  Uncle  Anthony 
standing  there  all  covered  with  chaff. 

The  tune  stops.  By  and  by  I  hear  Lon  call  out: 
"  Ba-al-ance  all !  "  The  fiddles  and  the  treading  be 
gin  again.  This  time  it  is  one  of  the  tunes  without  a 
name.  My  father  can  play  it  on  the  old  fife.  It 
always  says :  "  O  give-me-a  dol-lar-a  da-a-ay.  .  .  . 
O  give-me-a  dol-lar-a  da-a-ay.  .  .  .  O  give-me-a  dol- 
lar-a  dol-lar-a  dol-lar-a  dol-lar-a  dol-lar-a  da-a-ay." 

Lon  plays  the  tune  over  and  over.  It  makes  me 
think  of  my  father,  and  the  way  he  dances.  It  makes 
me  think  of  the  way  he  plays  the  fife.  It  always 
stretches  his  lip,  and  makes  it  look  smooth  and  shiny. 

The  tune  makes  me  think  of  my  mother,  too,  and 
the  way  she  dances.  I  like  to  have  Addie  say  she 
wishes  she  could  dance  as  nice  as  my  mother.  It 
makes  me  think  of  Lon  and  old  Ledley.  It  is  nice 
to  listen  to. 

I  almost  forget  about  the  supper.  I  don't  care. 
My  mother  will  save  me  some  of  the  biscuit  and 
frosted  cake  and  things.  It  is  nice  to  be  in  bed. 

The  tune  keeps  on,  over  and  over  again.  It  always 
says  the  same  thing:  "O  give-me-a  dol-lar-a  da- 
a-ay.  .  .  .  O  give-me-a  dol-lar-a  da-a-ay.  .  .  .  O 
give-me-a  dol-lar-a  dol-lar-a  dol-lar-a  dol-lar-a  dol- 
lar-a  da-a-ay  — ."  It  is  so  plain  it  is  almost  like 
talking :  "  O  give-me-a  dol-lar-a  da-a-ay  .  .  .  O 
give-me-a  dol-lar-a  da-a-ay.  .  .  .  O  give-me-a  give- 
me-a  .  .  .  dol-lar-a  .  .  .  give-me-a  .  .  .  dol-lar-a  — " 

58 


Jack  Washington  and  Colonel  Stanislawski  Give 
Temperance  Lectures 

THE  church  won't  hold  any  more.  There  are 
people  from  everywhere.  My  brother  and 
Edie  and  some  of  the  other  big  boys  and  girls  are  in 
the  choir.  They  are  all  ready  to  begin  as  soon  as 
the  minister  and  the  lecturers  come. 

We  hear  the  door  open,  and  someone  come  in.  We 
look  around.  The  minister  and  Jack  come  around 
the  end  of  the  board  screen  in  front  of  the  door,  and 
then  Colonel  Stanislawski.  They  go  up  the  aisle  to 
the  pulpit,  and  take  their  coats  off. 

The  minister  kneels  down  behind  the  pulpit  a 
minute,  and  then  gets  up  and  says :  "  Brothers  and 
sisters,  we  '11  begin  our  service  this  evening  by  singing 
number  two  hundred  and  eighty-six  —  two  hundred 
and  eighty-six:  'Yield  not  to  Temptation.5' 

He  reads  the  first  verse : 

"  Yield  not  to  temptation, 

For  yielding  is  sin, 
Each  victory  will  help  you 
Some  other  to  win. 

59 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Fight  manfully  onward, 

Darkr  passions  subdue, 
Look  ever  to  Jesus, 

He  '11  carry  you  through." 

He  says  again,  the  way  he  always  does :  "  Num 
ber  two  hundred  and  eighty-six.  The  first  and  last 
verses." 

When  we  get  through  with  the  first  verse,  the  minis 
ter  calls  out:  "Now  everybody  join  in  on  the 
chorus ! " 

We  all  sing  harder  than  ever.     The  chorus  says : 

"  Ask  the  Savior  to  help  you, 

Comfort,  strengthen,  and  keep  you, 
He  is  willing  to  aid  you, 

He  will  carry  you  through." 

After  the  singing,  the  minister  reads  where  it  says : 
"  Wine  is  a  mocker,  strong  drink  is  raging :  and  who 
soever  is  deceived  thereby  is  not  wise."  He  reads  in 
another  place  where  it  tells  about  putting  the  bottle 
to  your  neighbor's  lips.  We  know  he  is  thinking 
about  the  saloonkeepers. 

The  minister  shuts  up  the  Bible,  and  says :  "  Let 
us  pray !  "  He  gets  down  on  one  knee. 

A  lot  of  people  all  over  the  church  get  down  on 
both  knees.  They  have  to  turn  around  to  do  it. 
Little  Joe's  father  gets  right  out  in  the  aisle. 

My  father  sits  the  same  way  he  always  does.  My 
mother  just  puts  her  hand  over  her  eyes. 

Little  Joe's  father  keeps  saying :  "  A-a-ah-men  ! 
60 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

A-a-ah-men ! "  He  says  it  faster  and  louder  every 
time.  He  says  the  "  men  "  part  quick  and  sharp. 
Tip  turns  around  and  looks  at  me.  I  am  always 
afraid  I  '11  have  to  snicker  when  Little  Joe's  father 
gets  to  going  the  way  he  does. 

There  are  some  others  that  say  *'  Amen  "  a  good 
deal,  too.  And  they  say  "  Yes,  Lord !  "  and  "  Oh, 
Lord !  "  and  "  Lord,  answer  prayer !  "  The  faster 
and  louder  the  minister  prays,  the  more  they  all  do  it. 
We  can  hear  them  all  over  the  church. 

After  the  prayer,  the  minister  says :  "  Brothers 
and  sisters,  I  am  not  going  to  preach  to  you,  even  if 
it  is  the  Sabbath  night.  Anything  that  'elps  tem 
perance  'elps  religion.  Brother  Washington  and 
Brother  Stanislawski  'ave  been  lecturing  to  you  the 
past  four  nights,  and  to-night  by  the  grace  of  God 
we  want  them  to  crown  the  work  so  'appily  begun 
through  the  week.  We  '11  'ear  first  from  Brother 
Washington." 

The  minister  is  English.  All  the  Bible  Christian 
ministers  are  English.  We  have  fun  trying  to  talk 
their  way. 

The  minister  sits  down.  Jack  Washington  gets 
up  and  stands  by  the  pulpit. 

We  know  Jack.  He  has  been  here  before  to  lec 
ture,  and  he  staid  at  our  house.  He  says  he  likes  to 
be  called  just  Jack.  He  and  the  Colonel  are  staying 
at  our  house  this  time,  too.  The  temperance  lec 
turers  always  stay  at  our  house.  My  mother  puts 

61 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

them  in  the  parlor  bedroom,  and  makes  a  fire  in  the 
parlor  stove. 

Jack  stands  smiling  a  minute,  until  everybody  is 
quiet.  He  is  good  sized,  and  jolly  looking.  He  puts 
his  finger  on  his  forehead,  and  says :  "  Do  you  see 
this  here  scar  on  my  face?  Do  you  see  this  here  grey 
hair  of  mine  —  grey  long  before  my  time?  I  'm  goin' 
to  tell  you  now  what  the  liquor  traffic  's  done  for 
me!  " 

Jack  tells  about  when  he  was  a  young  man  and 
used  to  get  drunk,  and  how  mean  he  was  to  his  family. 
When  he  gets  to  talking  about  his  mother  and  his 
wife  and  little  boy,  people  begin  to  cry,  but  pretty 
soon  he  tells  a  funny  story  and  they  begin  to  laugh. 

Jack  is  full  of  fun.  He  knows  a  lot  of  stories  that 
no  one  has  ever  heard  before.  But  after  he  gets 
through  with  a  story,  he  always  pitches  into  the 
saloons  and  breweries  and  the  drunkards  just  the 
same. 

Jack  goes  for  the  saloonkeepers  worst  of  all.  He 
says :  "  I  understand  there  are  men  in  this  com 
munity  that  spend  their  money  at  the  saloons  and  let 
their  wives  and  children  go  in  poverty  and  rags  and 
suffer  from  cold  and  hunger !  " 

When  Jack  says  that,  we  all  hold  our  breath.  We 
know  he  means  Barney.  Barney's  wife  can  never  go 
anywhere,  because  she  has  n't  anything  to  wear,  and 
they  say  the  baby  died  because  they  did  n't  keep 
it  warm  enough  one  night  when  he  was  on  a  spree. 

62 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Jack  says :  "  And  I  understand  you  have  two 
licensed  hell-holes  down  yonder  at  the  station,  selling 
poison,  and  breeding  misery  and  crime !  " 

It  is  as  quiet  as  can  be.  I  keep  thinking  of  Char 
ley  Binzel  and  Rudy  Weber.  They  are  the  saloon 
keepers'  boys,  and  they  seem  as  good  as  anybody.  I 
like  Rudy. 

Jack  says :  "  Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen !  The 
money  that  should  go  to  feed  and  clothe  their  wives 
and  children  is  laid  down  on  the  counter  in  them  two 
dens  of  infamy  and  sinks  of  iniquity  down  yonder!  I 
tell  you  it  would  be  better  for  them  men  to  have  mill 
stones  hanged  about  their  necks  and  be  drowned  in 
the  depth  of  the  sea  !  " 

Jack  stretches  his  arm  out  and  points  toward  the 
depot.  We  all  think  of  the  way  the  two  saloons  look. 

When  Jack  begins  again,  he  shouts :  "  I  tell  you, 
ladles  and  gentlemen,  jest  so  long  as  we  have  these 
hell-holes  in  our  midst  here  in  this  land  of  ours,  jest 
so  long  we  're  a-goin'  to  have  vice  and  poverty  and 
crime,  and  jest  so  long  we  're  a-goin'  to  see  the  widow 
and  the  orphan  laid  down  on  the  altar  of  appetite ! " 

When  Jack  gets  to  going  like  that,  no  one  stirs. 
Once  in  a  while  he  brings  his  fist  down  on  the  pulpit. 
It  makes  us  all  jump. 

After  a  while  Jack  begins  to  talk  lower  again.  My 
father  leans  over  in  front  and  whispers  to  Grandpa 
Tyler :  "  By  jolly,  don't  he  just  give  it  to  'em?  " 

Grandpa  Tyler  turns  his  head,  and  whispers  back : 
63 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

"  Don't  he,  though  ?     Too  bad  they  can't  be  'round 
to  hear  it !  " 

We  can  tell  that  Jack  is  almost  through.  After  a 
while  he  says  he  '11  sing  us  one  of  his  songs.  He 
sings  one  that  always  ends  up :  "  And  the  bells  go 
chiming  on."  First  it  is  church  bells,  then  wedding 
bells,  then  fire  bells,  then  funeral  bells,  and  last  of  all 
the  temperance  bells.  They  all  go  chiming  on. 
There  is  a  place  where  a  mother  hears  some  funeral 
bells.  She  says :  "  My  boy,  my  darling  boy  !  "  It 
makes  us  awfully  sorry  for  her,  and  Edie's  mother 
cries. 


XI 

Jack  Sings  Temperance  Songs,  and  Pitches  into 
the  Saloon* 

JACK  says :  "  Now  Colonel  Stanislawski  is  goin' 
to  address  you,  and  I  'm  goin'  to  take  a  rest, 
and  then  maybe  after  he  is  done  I  '11  sing  you  an 
other  song." 

Colonel  Stanislawski  is  full  of  fun,  too.  He  is  a 
big  man,  with  a  bald  head  and  without  whiskers.  He 
talks  broken,  and  is  always  saying  "  Ladies  and  julte- 
men."  He  is  a  Polack,  but  he  is  n't  like  the  ones  we 
know.  His  whole  name  is  Colonel  Count  John 
Stanislawski.  He  says  his  ancestors  were  kings  in 
Poland. 

The  Colonel  tells  again  how  he  had  to  leave  his 
country,  and  how  he  fought  against  the  rebels  down 
south  in  the  sixties,  and  how  he  is  going  to  spend  the 
rest  of  his  days  fighting  the  liquor  traffic.  He  keeps 
us  laughing,  but  sometimes  some  of  the  women  cry. 

The  Colonel  does  n't  talk  very  long.  He  says : 
"  Now  I  am  not  going  to  keep  on  any  longer,  be 
cause  Brother  Jack  here  has  a  lot  more  to  say  to  you, 
and  some  more  songs  to  sing." 

Jack  gets  up  again.  He  says :  "  Yes,  ladies  and 
65 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

gentlemen,  I  have  got  a  lot  more  to  say !  There  ain't 
near  time  to  tell  you  half  of  what 's  on  my  heart  to 
night.  I  'm  just  goin'  to  tell  you  a  couple  of  stories, 
and  then  sing  you  another  song.  They  're  true 
stories,  too,  every  word  of  'em !  You  need  n't  think 
I  'm  making  'em  up.  No  sir!  You  could  n't  make 
up  stories  with  half  the  misery  and  affliction  caused 
by  the  demon  drink  that  they  is  in  real  every  day 
life!" 

The  stories  make  a  lot  of  people  cry.  Edie  sits 
with  her  handkerchief  over  her  eyes.  But  every  lit 
tle  while  they  all  have  to  laugh. 

At  one  place,  Jack  stops  and  yells  out :  "  I  tell 
you  hell  is  FULL  of  such  iniquity  — ."  We  all  sit 
still.  We  are  so  excited  we  can't  move.  We  think 
maybe  that 's  all  Jack  is  going  to  say  in  that  sen 
tence.  But  all  of  a  sudden  he  goes  on :  — "  and  slop- 
pin'  over  at  every  corner." 

That  brings  the  house  down.  Grandpa  Tyler 
slaps  his  leg.  He  turns  and  winks  at  my  father. 

Jack  waits  until  they  are  almost  through  laughing. 
He  says :  "  O'  course  it 's  a  good  thing  to  laugh,  but 
we  must  never  forget  the  monstrous  nature  of  the 
whiskey  traffic,  and  the  blight  it  is  to  our  beloved 
land !  " 

Jack  finishes  the  stories.  He  says :  "  I  could  tell 
you  a  lot  more  just  as  heart-breakin'  and  just  as  true 
as  these,  but  you  don't  need  to  be  told  stories  or  any 
thing  else  to  realize  the  enormity  of  the  traffic  in 

66 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

strong  drink.  Now  I  '11  sing  you  another  song,  and 
then  I  'm  goin'  to  ask  all  of  you  that  have  n't  done  it 
the  last  four  days,  to  come  forward  and  sign  the 
pledge." 

Jack's  song  is  about  a  little  girl.  Her  father  goes 
to  the  saloon  and  gets  drunk  and  does  something  bad. 
The  little  girl's  mother  sends  her  to  see  why  he 
does  n't  come  home. 

The  first  verse  is  this  way.  The  little  girl  says 
the  words : 

"O  mister  barkeeper,  has  father  been  here? 
He 's  not  been  at  home  for  the  day ; 
And  now  it  grows  dark,  and  my  mother 's  in  fear 
Some  accident  keeps  him  away." 

Jack  turns  to  one  side  while  he  is  singing  the  first 
verse.  When  he  begins  the  second,  he  turns  to  the 
other  side. 

The  barkeeper  says  the  words  in  the  second : 

"Oh  no,  little  mistress,  your  father's  not  here; 
Some  officers  took  him  away. 
They've  taken  him  off  to  the  lock-up,  I  fear; 
He 's  done  something  wicked,  they  say." 

Then  Jack  turns  the  other  way  again,  and  sings : 

"Oh,  't  was  not  my  father  that  did  the  bad  deed; 
'T  was  drinking  that  maddened  his  brain. 

0  let  him  go  back  to  dear  mother,  I  plead ; 

1  'm  sure  he  '11  not  do  it  again." 

After  that,  there  is  a  kind  of  ending,  that  says : 
67 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

"  I  'm  sure,  I  'm  sure,   I  'm  sure, 
I  'm  sure  he  '11  not  do  it  again." 

Jack  says :  "  Now  everybody  sing  the  last  verse 
with  me !  And  if  you  can't  remember  all  the  words, 
come  out  strong  on  the  '  I  'm  sure,'  anyway ! " 

Jack  holds  up  his  hand.  He  says :  "  Now ! 
A-a-all  together ! " 

They  all  sing: 

"  Oh,  't  was  not  my  father  that  did  the  bad  deed; 
'T  was  drinking  that  maddened  his  brain. 

0  let  him  go  home  to  dear  mother,  I  plead; 

1  'm  sure  he  '11  not  do  it  again. 

I  'm  sure,  I  'm  sure,  I  'm  sure, 

I  'm  sure  he  '11  not  do  it  again." 

A  good  many  can't  remember  the  first  part,  but 
they  all  come  out  with  the  "  I  'm  sure,"  just  the  way 
Jack  said. 

Jack  says :  "  Now  then,  when  the  benediction  's 
over,  you  come  right  up  and  sign  the  pledge !  And 
when  the  next  'lection  comes  'round,  see  to  it  that 
you  vote  against  the  curse  o'  rum !  And  you  church 
members  remember  to  vote  as  you  pray ! " 

The  minister  spreads  out  his  hands,  and  we  all  look 
down.  He  says  the  benediction. 

We  all  begin  to  look  for  our  caps  and  things. 
Just  then  Jack  yells  out  something.  We  all 
straighten  up  and  look  at  him.  He  says :  "  They 
say  you  can't  make  a  whistle  out  of  a  pig's  tail,  but 
that 's  a  mistake,  and  I  'm  going  to  show  you  that 

68 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

you  can ! "  He  reaches  into  his  pocket  and  takes 
something  out  and  blows  it.  He  holds  it  up.  It  is 
crooked  like  a  pig's  tail,  anyway.  We  all  laugh,  and 
begin  to  talk  to  each  other. 

Grandpa  Tyler  walks  down  with  us.  The  lec 
turers  are  coming  later. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says:  "Don't  he  just  give  ever- 
lastin'  fits  to  the  saloonkeepers,  though?  " 


My  father  says :  "  Sometimes  I  think  't  aint  all 
their  fault,  after  all.  If  folks  would  n't  buy,  they 
would  n't  sell." 

My  mother  says :  "  Now,  Hi,  you  know  better 
than  to  talk  that  way !  If  the  horrid  stuff  was  n't 
for  sale,  of  course  there  would  n't  be  the  temptation." 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  anyway,  it 's  a  disrepu 
table  business  to  be  in,  sure  pop !  " 

We  walk  along  a  while  without  saying  anything. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  No,  sir !  They  's  no  use 
talkin'.  The  stuff  ain't  never  done  nobody  any 
good."  He  says :  "  Now,  you  know,  there  's  some 

69 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

says  they  can  work  better  if  they  have  a  jug  o' 
liquor  round,  but  I  don't  believe  a  word  they  say." 
He  says :  "  Now,  there  's  that  fellow  down  east  o' 
here.  I  can't  think  of  his  name.  You  know  who 
I  mean.  It 's  that  Dutchman  't  got  converted  and 
joined  the  East  Church.  Well,  anyway,  he  told  me  't 
he  'd  worked  in  the  harvest  field  time  an'  agin,  with  it 
an'  without  it,  an'  't  he  could  always  do  more  work 
without." 

My  father  says :  "  Of  course !  It  stan's  to  rea 
son." 

Every  little  while  a  cutter  or  a  bob  comes  jingling 
along  behind  us,  and  we  have  to  get  out  of  the  road 
till  they  go  by. 

I  keep  thinking  of  Rudy  and  Charley.  I  wish  their 
fathers  would  sell  out,  and  be  farmers. 


70 


XII 

/  Dig  a  Path,  and  Get  a  Ride  to  School  with  Walt 

MY  mother  says :  "  Hurry  up  and  get  through 
with  your  breakfast!  I  want  you  to  see  if 
you  can't  shovel  the  path  before  you  go  to  school. 
Speckle  has  so  much  to  do  I  guess  you  '11  have  to  help 
him  out." 

It  has  been  snowing  all  night.  It  snowed  all  day 
yesterday,  too.  It  began  before  Sunday  School.  It 
has  been  blowing,  too,  so  that  there  are  big  drifts. 
When  they  went  out  to  do  chores  they  went  in  over 
their  knees.  My  brother  is  shoveling  out  the  path  to 
the  barn  now. 

I  go  out  to  where  my  brother  is.  He  is  almost 
through.  The  path  where  he  has  n't  shovelled  yet 
is  full  of  deep  tracks  where  they  waded  out  when  they 
went  to  do  chores.  He  has  the  big  scoop  shovel. 

I  say :  "  Can  I  have  the  shovel  as  soon  's  you  're 
through?  Ma  wants  me  to  shovel  the  front  path." 

My  brother  takes  great  big  shovelfuls.  He  is  soon 
through.  When  he  throws  out  the  last,  he  tosses  the 
shovel  toward  where  I  am.  It  sticks  up  in  the  snow. 

I  take  the  shovel  around  in  front  of  the  house,  and 
71 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

begin.  Right  near  the  veranda  there  is  n't  very 
much  snow.  The  wind  did  n't  strike  there,  so  it 
did  n't  drift.  Soon  I  am  as  far  as  the  little  hick 
ory. 

At  the  hickory  it  begins  to  be  deep.  I  try  to 
scoop  the  snow  fast,  but  it  is  heavy,  and  the  shovel  is 
too  big  for  me.  I  have  to  cut  down  at  the  sides,  and 
go  slow. 

The  shovel  goes  down  through  and  hits  the  stones 
in  the  gravel  walk.  When  I  get  as  far  as  the  petunia 
bed  and  the  evergreen,  I  look  back.  The  big  chunks 
of  snow  are  piled  up  on  both  sides  of  the  path.  They 
look  fine  and  white.  The  sun  makes  them  shine. 
They  make  me  think  of  white  sugar.  I  don't  mean 
granulated  sugar,  but  the  kind  we  always  get,  with 
lots  of  lumps  in  it. 

There  is  a  dip  in  the  ground  when  I  get  out  almost 
to  the  road.  The  snow  is  so  deep  there  that  when  I 
stoop  over  I  am  almost  out  of  sight.  The  snow  in 
the  road  is  ever  so  deep,  and  only  two  .or  three  sleighs 
have  been  along. 

I  get  all  warm.  Just  as  I  am  through,  I  see  Jim 
coming  up  from  the  depot. 

I  run  in  and  put  the  scoop  shovel  in  the  woodshed, 
and  grab  my  comforter  and  dinner  pail  and  run  out 
of  the  front  door.  Jim  is  just  going  by.  He  sees 
me,  and  stops  to  wait. 

We  have  to  walk  in  the  deep  ruts.  It  is  hard 
work.  I  try  to  walk  on  the  ridge  between,  but  it  is 

72 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

too  soft  there.  I  keep  going  in,  and  every  little  while 
one  foot  slips  and  I  almost  fall.  I  begin  to  feel 
warm. 

Jim  says :  "  Le*  's  try  the  banks  !  I  bet  the  crust 
is  hard  enough  to  hold  us  up." 

The  banks  run  along  beside  the  fence.  It  is  a  rail 
fence,  and  the  banks  are  crooked.  We  wade  out. 
Jim  goes  in  over  his  knees.  I  go  in  so  far  I  can 
hardly  take  the  next  step. 

Jim  says :  "  It  '11  be  harder  up  on  top.  Le'  's 
climb  up  there !  " 

But  the  banks  are  not  very  solid.  They  keep 
breaking.  We  go  in  so  deep  we  can  hardly  get  out. 

After  a  while,  Jim  says :  "  'T  ain'  no  use !  "  He 
is  in  up  to  his  waist,  and  I  am  in  almost  to  my  shoul 
ders. 

I  fall  over,  and  go  down  almost  out  of  sight. 

Jim  laughs.  He  says :  "  You  want  to  look  out ! 
First  thing  you  know,  you  '11  go  in  so  far  they  '11  have 
to  dig  you  out,  you  're  such  a  little  feller." 

We  hear  bells  coming. 

Jim  says :  "  I  bet  you  it 's  the  Barretts  !  We  '11 
get  a  ride." 

Pretty  soon  the  horses'  heads  come  into  sight  over 
the  little  rise  in  front  of  Uncle  Anthony's. 

Jim  says :     "  Yah,  it 's  them !  " 

The  Barretts  drive  up  every  morning  while  there 
is  sleighing.  Frank  and  Joey  are  the  only  Bar 
rett  boys  that  come  to  school  now,  but  there  are  a 

73 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

lot  of  boys  that  pile  in  on  the  way.     The  sleigh  is 
full.     They  are  all  standing  up.     Walt  is  driving. 

We  call  Walt  "  Washtub,"  on  account  of  the 
straw  hat  he  wears  in  summer.  It  has  a  wide  brim, 
and  comes  down  over  his  ears.  You  can  hardly  see 
his  face. 

I  yell  at  Walt:  "Hello,  Washtub!  Gimme  a 
ride?" 

Walt  yells  at  me :  "  Ah  there,  Pecky !  Pile  in 
with  you ! "  Walt  means  peck  measure.  That 's 
because  my  hat  is  little. 

The  horses  have  to  pull  hard  when  we  come  to  the 
church  hill.  The  runners  go  in  so  far  that  the  axles 
scrape  the  top  of  the  snow.  When  we  drive  into  the 
school  ground  we  go  in  almost  up  to  the  box.  It  is 
like  going  in  a  boat.  The  bob  leaves  two  deep  ruts, 
with  smoothed-off  snow  between.  There  are  streaks 
on  the  smoothed-off  part,  where  the  bolts  and  things 
went. 

We  stop  at  the  steps.  Walt  yells :  "  Pile  out, 
everybody !  " 

We  all  jump  out.  We  stand  and  watch  Walt  turn 
around.  The  horses  go  in  up  to  their  bellies.  The 
sleigh  almost  floats.  All  we  can  hear  is  the  bells,  and 
the  horses'  feet  going  in. 

The  sleigh  makes  a  fine  track  in  a  circle.  When 
the  horses  get  out  of  the  deep  snow  and  into  the  road, 
they  start  off  home  on  the  trot.  The  bells  make  a 
fine  jingling. 

74 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Walt  stands  in  the  box  and  waves  his  whip  at  us. 
He  yells  at  me :  "  So  long,  Pecky !  " 

I  wave  my  hand,  and  yell  back :  "  So  long,  Wash- 
tub!" 


75 


XIII 

We  Have  Fun  in  the  Snow  Before  School  Calls 

WE  go  in  and  set  our  dinner  pails  on  the  shelf. 
We  run  out  again.  We  run  around  in  the 
snow  scuffing  our  feet.  It  is  up  over  our  knees. 
There  is  hardly  any  crust. 

The  girls  stand  on  the  steps  and  watch  us. 

The  snow  does  n't  pack  yet,  so  we  can't  throw 
snowballs.  We  run  up  to  the  steps  and  throw  hand- 
fuls  at  the  girls.  It  comes  apart  and  scatters  all 
over  them. 

Gertie  says :  "  You  stop  that !  If  you  do  that 
again  I  '11  wash  your  face !  " 

Georgie  throws  some  more  at  her.  Gertie  jumps 
off  the  steps  and  runs  after  him.  She  can't  catch 
him.  When  she  is  going  by  me,  I  throw  some  more 
at  her.  She  turns  around  quick  and  catches  me  and 
washes  my  face.  She  throws  me  down  in  the  snow. 

I  get  up  and  laugh  at  Gertie.  I  say :  "  You 
need  n't  think  I  care !  " 

I  run  away  to  where  the  snow  is  deep.  I  say: 
"  How  's  Harv  these  days?  " 

Gertie  gets  red.  Harv  is  a  boy  over  north.  She 
says :  "  Shut  up,  will  you  ?  Next  time  you  say 
that  I  '11  put  snow  right  down  your  neck !  " 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  run  away  a  little  farther,  and  yell :  "  How  's 
Harv  these  days  ?  " 

Gertie  starts  after  me,  but  I  know  she  won't  come 
out  into  the  deep  snow.  Georgie  throws  a  handful 
of  snow  at  her  and  runs  away  and  yells :  "  How  's 
Harv  ?  "  Then  Tip  and  all  the  rest  begin.  We  get 
her  so  mad  she  does  n't  know  what  to  do. 

At  last  Gertie  says :  "  I  'm  going  to  tell  teacher, 
so  now ! "  She  runs  in,  but  we  know  she  won't  tell. 
Teacher  is  n't  here  yet,  anyway. 

August  and  Heiny  are  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
deep  snow,  looking  at  us.  They  have  Scotch  caps  on, 
and  have  them  drawn  down  over  their  ears.  They 
have  white  woolen  comforters  around  their  necks, 
tied  under  their  chins,  and  they  are  not  very  clean. 
The  ends  are  long  and  fuzzy.  They  button  them 
inside  their  coats,  and  it  makes  them  stick  out  in 
front. 

August  and  Heiny  look  clumsy.  Their  coats  are 
coarse  and  thick,  and  make  their  arms  hang  down 
stiff.  Their  mittens  are  coarse  and  stiff,  too. 
Their  caps  are  down  so  far  they  have  to  hold  their 
heads  back  to  see  anything. 

Syd  takes  a  run  and  picks  Heiny  up  and  runs 
across  the  road  with  him.  Heiny's  arms  and  legs 
go,  and  he  begins  to  yell.  Syd  gives  him  a  toss,  and 
he  comes  down  in  the  middle  of  a  big  snowbank  near 
the  fence.  We  can't  see  anything  but  a  big  hole, 
and  some  black  mixed  up  with  the  snow. 

77 


Heiny  kicks  and  rolls  around,  and  we  all  laugh  as 
hard  as  we  can.  He  gets  up  and  stands  there  cry 
ing.  His  arms  stick  straight  down.  He  yells : 
"  August !  August !  August !  "  He  pronounces  it 
"  Ow-goost." 

August  goes  and  gets  Heiny  by  the  hand.  He 
says  to  him :  "  You  don't  vant  to  cry !  De  snow 
von't  hurt  you."  August's  voice  is  always  hoarse. 

August  brushes  Heiny  off.  He  takes  his  cap  and 
shakes  it,  and  puts  it  back  on  his  head.  He  picks 
Heiny  up  and  starts  to  carry  him  out  to  the  road. 
They  both  fall  down,  and  we  laugh  again.  August 
laughs,  too,  and  pretty  soon  so  does  Heiny. 

When  they  get  back  where  we  are,  Syd  makes  be 
lieve  he  is  going  to  take  Heiny  again.  Heiny  runs 
behind  August.  August  says :  "  Aw,  come  on, 
don't  t'row  him  in  again !  He  '11  get  all  over  snow 
and  vet,  and  catch  cold.  Take  somevone  else,  uf  you 
vant  to  t'row  anyvone  in." 

Syd  says:  "All  right!"  He  jumps  after  Au 
gust.  August  starts  to  run.  He  falls  down,  and 
Syd  falls  down  over  him.  They  both  get  up  all 
white,  and  start  to  run  again.  Syd  catches  August, 
and  runs  and  throws  him  into  the  biggest  snowbank 
he  can  find. 

August  rolls  around  in  the  snow  on  purpose. 
When  he  gets  up  he  is  white  all  over,  and  his  cap  is 
away  down  over  his  eyes. 

We  all  laugh  and  yell,  and  run  and  jump  into  the 
78 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

bank.     We   roll   around,   and   throw   snow   at  each 
other,  and  try  to  wash  each  other's  faces. 

Georgie  climbs  up  on  the  fence,  and  yells: 
"  Watch !  I  'm  a-goin'  to  dive !  Watch !  " 

Georgie  waits  until  everybody  is  looking.  Then 
he  jumps  head  first  into  the  bank.  He  tumbles  and 
rolls  around,  and  we  can  hardly  see  him.  It  is  a  long 
time  before  he  gets  up.  The  snow  sticks  up  on  top 
of  his  cap,  and  he  gets  a  lot  of  it  down  his  neck. 

We  all  get  on  the  fence  just  as  Georgie  did,  and 
dive  all  at  once.  Our  faces  get  all  wet.  The  snow 
gets  in  our  necks  and  up  our  sleeves.  Some  of  us 
have  our  pants  tucked  in,  and  our  boots  get  full  of 
snow.  We  don't  care  for  that. 

My  brother  and  Edie  come  along.  The  big  girls 
are  in  the  windows,  watching  us.  We  roll  around 
worse  than  ever. 

•  Bill  says :     "  Come  on,  everybody,  and  le'  's  make 
a  monkey  pile !  " 

We  all  yell :  "  All  right,  come  on !  "  We  pitch 
onto  Bill  and  get  him  down,  and  then  all  pile  onto  one 
another.  August  and  Heiny  get  on  top.  Heiny 
sits  on  top  of  August,  and  claps  his  hands  and  laughs 
at  the  girls  in  the  windows. 

The  bell  rings.  We  all  start  and  run  over  to  the 
steps.  Georgie  gets  there  first,  and  goes  in  after  the 
broom.  He  says  to  Tip :  "  You  sweep  me  and  I  '11 
sweep  you.  Come  on !  " 

They  sweep  each  other  off.     Bill  grabs  the  broom 
79 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

before  Georgie  is  done,  and  gets  Jim  to  sweep  him 
off.  Then  he  sweeps  Jim  off. 

When  we  get  through  sweeping,  we  have  to  sit 
down  on  the  steps  and  take  our  boots  off.  We  turn 
them  bottom  side  up  and  slap  them  with  our  hands 
until  the  snow  is  all  out. 

When  we  go  in,  teacher  looks  at  us  and  laughs. 
He  says  to  Georgie  and  me :  "  You  'd  better  stand 
by  the  stove  a  little  while,  and  see  if  your  clothes 
won't  dry  out." 

We  take  our  books  and  go  to  the  stove.  First  we 
stand  with  our  faces  toward  the  stove,  and  then  with 
our  backs. 

When  we  go  to  our  seats,  Tip  and  Bill  ask  if  they 
can  stand  there.  It  smells  steamy  all  over  the  room. 


80 


XIV 

We  Make  Two  Snow  Forts  at  Noon,  and  Have 
a  Battle 

BEFORE  noon  we  can  hear  the  eaves  dropping. 
We  know  the  snow  will  pack. 

Georgie  pokes  me  in  the  back.  I  look  at  the 
teacher.  He  is  n't  looking.  I  turn  around  a  little. 

Georgie  whispers :  "  Give  this  to  Tip."  He 
drops  a  note  over  into  my  seat. 

I  drop  the  note  over  into  Tip's  seat,  and  give  him 
a  poke.  He  looks  at  teacher.  He  is  n't  sure 
whether  teacher  is  watching  or  not.  He  looks  at  his 
book  all  the  time  while  he  picks  up  the  note  and  gets 
it  unfolded.  He  unfolds  it  under  the  desk,  and  puts 
it  in  his  book.  Pretty  soon  he  looks  around.  He 
nods  at  Georgie. 

Georgie  whispers  to  me :  "  We  're  goin'  to  bring 
our  shovels  and  make  a  fort."  I  keep  thinking  what 
fun  that  will  be. 

When  noon  comes,  Tip  and  Georgie  start  for  home 
as  fast  as  they  can.  Tip  yells  back  at  Georgie: 
"  Few  know!" 

Georgie  yells :  "  Get  back  as  quick  as  you  can !  " 
81 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Tip  yells:  "All  right!"  They  both  begin  to 
run. 

Bill  says  to  us :  "  Come  on  in,  and  le'  's  eat  right 
away ! " 

As  soon  as  we  are  through,  we  all  run  out.  The 
steps  are  wet  and  steaming.  In  front  of  them  it  is 
almost  slushy.  We  try  the  snow.  It  packs  as  nice 
as  can  be. 

Bill  says  to  Frank  and  Dan :  "  Come  on,  le'  's 
start  some  balls  for  the  fort !  " 

Jim  says :  "  All  right,  and  we  '11  start  some, 
too." 

I  help  Jim.  We  go  over  to  where  the  snow  is  n't 
very  deep,  so  it  will  be  moist  away  down  to  the 
ground.  We  pack  a  little  of  it  together  tight,  and 
begin  to  roll  it  over  and  over.  It  all  sticks  together, 
and  the  balls  get  big  right  away. 

Jim  says:  "Don't  she  pack  just  fine,  though? 
We  '11  have  a  dandy  fort  in  no  time.  When  they 
get  here  with  the  shovels,  it  '11  be  all  ready  for  the 
finishin'  touches." 

We  roll  the  balls  straight  ahead  a  while,  and  then 
to  one  side.  That  keeps  them  from  getting  too 
square.  Where  the  snow  is  thin  enough,  they  leave 
the  ground  bare,  and  make  big  black  tracks. 

We  make  eight  big  balls,  and  roll  them  into  two 
lines  facing  each  other.  One  line  is  near  the  bass- 
woods,  and  the  other  by  second  base.  We  make 
smaller  ones  to  stop  up  the  cracks  with. 

82 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Tip  and  Georgie  come  running  with  their  shovels. 
They  fill  up  all  the  cracks,  and  level  off  the  top  and 
the  sides.  In  a  few  minutes  we  are  all  read}7  for  the 
battle. 

Bill  and  Jim  choose  sides.  When  anyone  gets  hit, 
he  has  to  go  over  to  the  other  fort  and  fight  on  that 
side. 

There  are  so  many  of  us  that  it  is  hard  for  all  of 
us  to  get  into  the  forts. 

Tip  says :  "  Hoi'  on !  We  got  to  have  some  flags 
if  we  're  a-goin'  to  have  a  war.  Here,  this  '11  be 
ourn."  He  gets  a  stick  and  ties  his  handkerchief 
on  it.  He  sticks  it  up  in  the  top  of  our  fort.  He 
says :  "  We  're  the  'Mericans.  Our  fort  is  Bunker 
Hill." 

Jim  is  really  our  commander,  but  Tip  just  goes 
ahead.  He  is  so  interested. 

Bill  fixes  up  his  handkerchief  on  their  fort,  the 
same  way.  His  handkerchief  is  red  and  white.  He 
says  :  "  All  right,  we  '11  be  the  British." 

Georgie  says :  "  The  British  did  n't  have  a  fort, 
though." 

Bill  says :  "  That 's  so.  I  never  thought  o' 
that." 

Tip  says:  "Aw,  who  cares?  Le'  's  just  play 
they  did." 

Dan  yells  out  from  their  fort :  "  All  right,  come 
ahead  with  your  bullets,  if  you  want  anything! 
We  '11  show  you,  mighty  quick." 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Jim  and  Bill  and  Tip  and  Dan  all  yell  "  Fire ! "  at 
the  same  time.  We  begin  to  let  fly.  We  stand  up 
and  fire,  and  dodge  when  the  balls  come. 

We  hit  a  lot  of  their  men.  Soon  we  get  them  all 
on  our  side  except  Bill  and  August. 

August  can't  throw  that  far.  He  just  jumps  up 
and  laughs,  and  then  goes  down  again  quick.  Our 
balls  hit  the  top  of  the  fort  or  go  over  his  head. 

August  jumps  up  and  goes  down  again  a  good 
many  times  without  getting  hit.  He  comes  up  with 
his  arms  sticking  straight  out  sideways  and  his  mouth 
wide  open,  laughing  because  we  never  can  hit  him. 
He  looks  so  funny  that  we  have  to  laugh,  too.  We 
laugh  so  hard  we  can  hardly  throw. 

Tip  says :  "  I  tell  you  what  le'  's  do  —  throw 
just  when  he's  goin'  to  come  up!  That'll  be  the 
way." 

The  next  time  August  comes  up,  only  part  of  us 
throw.  Then  we  wait  a  little  while,  and  all  begin  to 
let  fly.  Just  then  August  comes  up  again,  with  his 
arms  out  and  his  mouth  wide  open.  One  of  the  balls 
takes  him  right  in  the  nose.  It  smashes  to  pieces  all 
over  his  face.  It  hits  him  just  as  he  begins  to  yell. 
Part  of  it  goes  in  his  mouth,  so  that  he  gives  a  kind 
of  yelp. 

We  almost  die  laughing.  We  laugh  so  hard  that 
we  forget,  and  Bill  hits  a  couple  of  our  men.  Pretty 
soon  he  has  a  whole  lot  of  them,  and  there  are  only 
Tip  and  Jim  and  I. 

84 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Bill  yells  out :  "  We  're  goin'  to  charge  on  you 
and  capture  you  now.  You  better  look  out !  " 

Tip  says  to  us :  "  Hurry  up,  make  a  hull  lot  o' 
balls,  and  have  'em  ready !  " 

Bill's  side  don't  throw  for  a  minute.  We  know 
they  are  busy  making  balls,  too. 

We  get  a  lot  of  balls  ready,  and  hold  them  in  the 
hollow  of  our  arms.  Then  Tip  stands  in  front  of  us 
and  says :  "  Soldiers,  if  they  mean  to  have  a  war, 
let  'em  have  it  now !  Don't  fire  till  you  can  see  the 
whites  o'  their  eyes !  Remember  Tippecanoe !  " 

I  begin  to  say :  "  Aw,  that  ain't  the  way  you 
want  to  say  it! "  But  just  then  Bill's  men  yell  and 
rush  out.  We  jump  up,  too.  The  balls  begin  to  fly. 
We  are  having  the  most  fun  of  all. 

Then  the  bell  rings.  We  all  stop,  and  say: 
"  A-a-aw,  't  ain't  no  one  o'clock  yet ! "  We  throw 
a  few  more  balls,  and  go  in. 

Bill  says :  "  A  minute  more,  an'  we  'd  'a5  had  the 
hull  o'  you!" 

Tip  says :  "  You  would,  would  you  ?  Well  I  bet 
you  would  n't ! " 

Jim  says :  "  Was  n't  it  funny  the  way  that  ball 
took  August  just  as  he  come  up?  I  laughed  so  hard 
I  'most  died." 

Tip  says :  "  That 's  how  they  come  to  get  ahead 
of  us.  If  it  had  n't  V  been  for  that,  we  'd  V  soon 
had  'em  all." 


85 


XV 

Edie  Is  Punished  at  School,  Right  in  Front  of 
My  Brother 

TEACHER  is  hearing  A  Arithmetic.  My 
brother  and  Edie  and  Syd  and  some  of  the 
other  big  boys  and  girls  are  in  it. 

Teacher  is  figuring  on  the  blackboard,  and  talking. 
He  says :  "  I  don't  care  whether  it  says  so  in  the 
book  or  not !  I  can  solve  any  problem  this  way  that 
you  want  to  give  me.  I  don't  care  what  it  is !  " 

Teacher's  ears  are  red.  When  he  turns  around, 
his  nose  looks  sharp  and  his  lips  thin.  Some  of  them 
say  he  has  an  awful  temper  when  you  get  him  going. 
They  say  he  gets  perfectly  furious  when  they  plague 
him  about  the  girls.  They  say  he  is  engaged  to  a 
girl  at  home  where  he  goes  every  couple  of  weeks. 

Syd  holds  up  his  hand.  Teacher  says :  "  What 
is  it?"  Syd  says  something.  I  can't  hear  it  all, 
but  it  is  about  an  example. 

Teacher  says :  "  All  right ! "  He  puts  down 
some  numbers  that  Syd  tells  him,  and  begins  to  fig 
ure. 

Pretty  soon  teacher  stops.  His  ears  look  redder 
86 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

than  ever.     I  can  see  that  the  example  is  n't  coming 
out  the  way  he  wants  it  to. 

Steve  looks  at  Syd,  and  winks.  I  am  afraid 
teacher  will  see  him. 

Teacher  rubs  out  the  example.  He  says :  "  Well, 
I  have  n't  got  time  now,  but  I  '11  figure  it  out  to 
night  and  bring  it  to-morrow."  He  dismisses  the 
class.  He  looks  cross. 

August  raises  his  hand.  Teacher  says : 
"Well?"  August  says:  "  Vill  you  please  write  a 
copy  for  Heiny  ?  " 

Teacher  writes  some  capitals  and  little  letters  on 
the  board.  Heiny  begins  to  copy.  His  face  looks 
as  if  it  were  hard  work.  It  is  all  wrinkled  up,  and 
his  tongue  sticks  out. 

I  study  my  arithmetic.     We  are  in  fractions. 

Pretty  soon  I  hear  teacher  say :  "  You  may  stand 
by  your  seat.  I  want  no  whispering,  and  no  notes !  " 

I  look  at  teacher.  He  is  looking  at  someone  on 
the  girls'  side.  I  look  over  there. 

Just  as  I  look,  Edie  gets  up.  She  smiles  a  little, 
but  not  very  long.  She  stands  holding  her  geogra 
phy,  and  looking  down  at  it.  She  has  her  blue  dress 
and  white  apron  on.  Her  hair  is  n't  so  very  long, 
and  is  a  little  bit  curly.  It  hangs  down  her  back, 
and  has  a  blue  ribbon  around  it  at  the  back  of  her 
head.  It  looks  pretty  on  her  blue  dress.  She  has 
bangs,  and  blue  eyes,  and  her  skin  is  white,  except 
when  she  blushes. 

87 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


I  look  at  Edie  a  while,  and  then  I  look  at  my 
brother.  My  brother's  ears  are  red.  He  does  n't 
look  up  at  all.  He  has  his  book  open,  but  I  know 
he  can't  be  studying. 

Teacher  says :     "  B  Arithmetic  !  " 
I  get  up,  and  our  class  goes  up  to  the  front  seats. 
Teacher  gives  us  some  examples  to  work  out  on  the 
board.     Some  of  us  don't  go  to  the  board.     He  asks 
questions  of  us  until,  those  at  the  board  are  done. 

I  turn  and  look  at  Edie.  She  has  her  face  down 
toward  her  book,  and  is  smiling.  I  know  she  has 

been   looking   at    some 
one. 

All  at  once  teacher 
stops  asking  us  ques 
tions.  He  keeps  look 
ing  at  Edie.  He  is  half 
red,  and  half  white,  and 
his  lips  are  tight 
together.  He  says : 
"  Edie,  were  you  whis 
pering  again?  " 

Edie  looks  at  him. 
She  tries  to  smile.  She 
says :  "  Yes,  sir." 

Teacher  says :  "  Very 
well,  then,  you  may  come 
up    to    my    desk."     He 
picks  up  the  ruler. 
88 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Edie  comes  up  to  the  desk.  She  stands  where  I 
can  see  her  face.  She  has  her  geography. 

Teacher  says :     "  Hold  out  your  hand !  " 

Edie  tries  to  smile  again.  She  puts  her  teeth  over 
her  lips.  It  is  just  as  quiet  as  can  be.  We  all  sit 
watching.  I  can't  help  turning  around  a  little  to 
look  at  my  brother.  He  is  n't  looking  up. 

Edie  holds  out  her  hand.  Teacher  brings  the 
ruler  down.  It  makes  a  loud  crack,  and  we  all  jump. 
He  brings  it  down  hard  four  times.  Then  he  says: 
"  You  may  stand  by  your  seat  again." 

I  look  around  at  my  brother.  I  see  Syd  and  Steve 
looking  at  him,  too.  My  brother's  ears  are  red,  but 
his  face  is  n't.  He  looks  pale.  Jennie  and  Frankie 
look  scared. 

At  noon  my  brother  walks  home  with  Edie.  When 
we  go  out  to  play  after  dinner,  they  are  standing 
there  yet,  in  front  of  their  gate.  Then  she  goes  in, 
and  he  goes  home. 

Just  before  school  calls,  they  come  back  together. 
I  don't  like  teacher  very  well  to-day. 

When  I  get  home  at  night,  I  run  in  and  tell  my 
mother  all  about  Edie  and  teacher. 

My  mother  says :     "  And  did  she  cry  ?  " 

I  say:  "  No,  she  just  stood  and  looked  pale  while 
he  brought  the  ruler  down,  and  then  she  got  red 
afterward." 

My  mother  says :  "  I  wonder  what  old  Spot 
thought  of  it." 

89 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

At  supper,  she  says  to  my  brother :  "  I  hear  your 
sweetheart  got  her  hands  spatted  to-day." 

My  brother  does  n't  say  anything.  He  is  eating 
bread  and  butter  and  pork  and  beans.  When  he 
bites  into  the  bread  his  cheeks  wrinkle  up  and  his 
eyes  shut,  the  way  they  always  do. 

My  mother  says :  "  What  was  she  doing  that  was 
so  awful  bad?  " 

My  brother  keeps  on  eating  a  while.  He  does  n't 
look  up.  Then  he  says :  "  Oh,  she  was  whisper- 
in'." 

My  brother  gets  red  after  he  says  it.  He  eats  the 
beans  in  big  forkfuls. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  you  're  pretty  young 
yet  to  be  goin'  with  one  girl  so  much.  My  stars, 
you're  only  children!  It 'd  be  just  as  well  if  you 
wa'n't  quite  so  thick." 

My  brother  keeps  on  eating.  He  presses  his  knife 
flat  against  the  plate  to  get  all  of  the  beans  that  are 
left,  and  scrapes  the  knife  on  his  fork.  He  puts  the 
fork  into  his  mouth,  and  lays  it  down  on  his  plate. 
He  gets  up  and  goes  after  the  milk  pails,  and  goes 
out. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  don't  know  as  I  blame  her 
mother  for  making  such  a  fuss,  with  Edie  so  young." 
She  says :  "  But  after  all,  I  don't  really  think 
there  's  any  need  to  worry.  That 's  the  way  boys 
and  girls  are." 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  anyway,  it 's  about  time 
90 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

we  put  a  stop  to  his  goin'  to  see  her  every  single 
night.  He  better  stay  home  once  in  a  while,  and  pay 
more  attention  to  his  lessons." 


XVI 

My  Father  and  Uncle  Anthony  Shovel  out  the 
Road,  and  We  See  a  Snowplough 

IT  snowed  again  yesterday,  all  day  and  all  night. 
And  it  blew,  too. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  we  '11  have  to 
warn  out  a  man  or  two,  and  shovel  out  here  and  there, 
or  teams  won't  be  able  to  get  through." 

My  father  is  pathmaster.  Sometimes  they  call  it 
"  road  boss."  Every  spring  he  has  to  oversee  when 
they  work  on  the  road,  and  when  there  is  too  much 
snow  he  has  to  call  some  of  the  men  out  to  clear 
away. 

My  father  says  to  my  brother :  "  S'posing  you 
go  over  to  Uncle  Anthony's  and  see  if  he  won't  come. 
We  '11  see  to  some  o'  the  worst  places,  anyway." 
He  says :  "  We  might  as  well  be  workin'  out  some  o* 
the  taxes  now  when  there  's  nothing  to  do,  as  in  the 
spring." 

My  brother  has  to  wade  through  the  front  yard 
and  across  the  road.  He  can  hardly  get  Uncle  An 
thony's  gate  open  far  enough  to  squeeze  through. 
After  a  while  he  comes  back  and  goes  out  to  hitch 

93 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

up.  They  are  going  to  leave  our  paths  till  they  get 
back. 

It  is  n't  so  very  cold.  I  ask  if  I  can  go  along  with 
them.  I  get  my  comforter  and  pull  my  Scotch  cap 
down  over  my  ears.  I  don't  have  an  overcoat.  My 
mother  says  boys  are  so  warm-blooded  they  don't 
need  overcoats. 

Pretty  soon  Uncle  Anthony  comes  over  with  his 
shovel.  We  start  up  the  road  toward  the  church. 
The  old  marcs  wallow  through  the  snow  even  where  it 
is  level. 

When  they  come  to  a  drift,  my  brother  and  my 
father  and  Uncle  Anthony  get  out  and  clear  away 
till  my  father  says :  "  That  '11  do.  I  guess  we  can 
make  a  track  now." 

When  they  all  get  out,  I  hold  the  lines.  If  it  is  n't 
a  very  big  drift,  my  brother  shovels  it  alone. 

When  we  go  by  Edie's  mother's,  my  brother  keeps 
looking  at  their  windows.  I  look,  too.  We  don't 
see  anybody. 

We  go  as  far  as  the  schoolhouse,  and  turn  around. 
We  go  back  north  past  our  house  down  to  the  de 
pot. 

There  is  a  team  hitched  in  front  of  one  of  the  sa 
loons.  We  can  see  where  it  came  from,  over  north. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  they  've  got 
through  from  up  that  way.  Ain't  no  use  of  us  goin', 
is  they?" 

My  father  says :  "  I  don't  s'pose  they  really  is. 
94 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

But  had  n't  we  better  take  a  turn  up  and  back  any 
way,  and  kind  o'  wear  a  path  for  the  rest?  " 

We  go  past  the  saloons  up  by  Grandpa  Tyler's 
and  as  far  as  the  bottom  of  the  burying  ground  hill. 
Then  we  come  back  to  the  depot  and  stop. 

There  won't  be  any  trains  to-day,  though,  by  the 
looks  of  the  tracks.  Most  of  the  way  we  can't  see 
the  rails.  The  water  tank  has  a  thick  white  cap  on. 
There  is  smoke  going  up  from  the  depot  and  the 
store. 

Mr.  White  is  clearing  off  the  store  steps.  He 
shovels  first,  and  then  sweeps.  They  are  clearing 
the  snow  away  over  by  the  saloons,  too. 

Uncle  Anthony  says  to  Mr.  White :  "  White,  't 
was  quite  a  storm,  wa'n't  it?  " 

We  sit  and  watch  Mr.  White  sweep.  Uncle  An 
thony  says:  "  Goin'  to  git  some  more,  think?  " 

Mr.  White  looks  up  at  the  sky.  He  says : 
"  Looks  a  good  deal  like  it,  sure  's  you  're  alive !  " 

He  finishes  the  sweeping,  and  strikes  the  broom  on 
the  steps  to  get  the  snow  out.  He  says :  "  Another 
night  like  last  night,  and  you  '11  have  to  go  without 
your  Patriot  longer  'n  you  ever  did  yet.  As  't  is, 
there  ain't  been  anything  along  since  number  three 
last  night.  They  run  the  flanger  out  just  before." 

I  know  what  the  flanger  is.  I  saw  it  go  through 
once.  It  is  a  box  car  with  iron  things  at  the  bottom 
to  clear  the  rails.  The  man  in  it  lifts  the  flangers 
with  a  lever  every  time  they  come  to  a  crossing  or  a 

95 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

culvert.  He  has  to  know  every  crossing  or  culvert 
on  the  line.  If  he  did  n't,  he  'd  tear  up  the  planks, 
or  else  break  the  flangers. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Johnnie  tells  me  they  're  goin' 
to  run  the  snowplough  out  this  mornin'." 

Just  as  Mr.  White  picks  up  the  shovel  to  go  in, 
he  stops  and  looks  down  toward  the  old  stone  tank, 
where  the  tracks  go  around  the  curve  out  of  sight. 
He  says :  "  Hello,  there  she  comes  now  !  Funny !  I 
did  n't  hear  her  whistle  for  the  John  Green  crossin'. 
Did  you?" 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  No,  I  don't  know  as  I 
did." 

We  watch  them  come.  The  engine  and  the  smoke 
are  as  black  as  can  be.  Every  little  while  the  snow 
flies  up  in  the  air,  and  we  can  hardly  see  the  engine. 
Then  they  strike  a  clearer  place,  and  there  is  n't  any 
snow. 

They  whistle  for  the  depot.  My  father  says: 
"  Well,  s'posin'  we  drive  across  and  see  'em  come  in." 

My  brother  and  I  jump  out  and  run  ahead.  We 
can't  wait.  When  we  get  around  to  the  depot  door 
on  the  other  side,  Johnnie  is  standing  there  looking 
down  the  track. 

Just  before  they  get  to  the  depot,  there  is  a  big 
drift.  The  plough  goes  plumping  into  it,  and  the 
snow  flies  both  sides  and  up  into  the  air.  The  engine 
almost  stops,  and  has  to  puff  hard  to  get  through. 

The  engine  comes  rumbling  and  clanking  along, 
96 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

and  stops  in  front  of  us.  The  engineer  is  in  the 
window.  It  is  old  Jim  Little.  Jim  has  been  on  the 
road  ever  since  anyone  can  remember. 

Johnnie  goes  out  to  the  engine,  and  says :  "  Jim, 
how  you  makin'  it?  Think  number  one '11  be  out 
this  afternoon  ?  " 

Jim  swings  down,  and  begins  to  oil.  He  says : 
"  Hard  tellin'.  It 's  all  right  from  Town  out  this 
fur,  o'  course,  but  I  don't  know  how  much  furder 
we  're  a-goin'  to  git.  There  's  them  deep  cuts  up  the 
line,  you  know.  We  been  almost  stuck  more  'n  once 
as  't  is,  an'  if  she  blows  up  agin  some  more,  we  '11  be 
stalled  for  sure." 

Jim  looks  up  at  the  sky,  and  shakes  his  head.  He 
is  old  and  thin,  and  has  grey  hair. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  Anthony,  le'  's  get  along 
home.  Come  on,  boys  I" 

I  say  to  my  brother :  "  Ask  him  to  wait  till  the 
snowplough  goes.  Will  you?  " 

My  brother  says :  "  Ask  him  yourself !  You  got 
a  tongue,  ain't  you?  " 

I  go  up  to  my  father  and  say :  "  Pa,  can't  you 
wait  till  the  snowplough  goes  ?  " 

My  father  looks  down  at  me.  He  says :  "  Oh 
pshaw!  Who  knows  how  long  they'll  stay  here?" 

I  say :     "  Oh,  they  're  getting  ready  now.     See  ?  " 

Old  Jim  climbs  up  into  the  cab.  The  fireman 
rings  the  bell.  The  engine  makes  a  steaming  noise, 
and  goes  clanking  across  the  wagon  road  and  past 

97 


the  switches.     It  hardly  has  to  puff  at  all,  because  it 
has  n't  any  cars  to  pull. 

When  they  get  beyond  the  tank,  the  snow  begins 
to  fly  again.  It  shoots  out,  and  then  makes  a  kind 
of  spray.  We  watch  it  until  they  are  past  the  trees 
up  near  the  bullhead  hole. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  She  ain't  stuck  so  fur, 
anyway.  But  they  's  no  tellin'  what  '11  happen  up  in 
them  cuts." 

We  go  up  the  hill  toward  home.  The  flakes  are 
beginning  to  come  down  again.  We  stop  to  shovel 
out  a  little  deeper  in  front  of  Mr.  White's,  and  then 
stop  for  Uncle  Anthony  to  get  out. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Oh,  you  need  n't  to 
stopped.  I  could  'a'  just  dropped  off  without." 

The  snow  is  coming  down  fast  now,  and  the  wind  is 
getting  strong. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  Hi,  it 's  my  opin 
ion,  the  way  it  looks  now,  't  we  '11  have  the  hull  thing 
to  do  over  again  to-morrow." 

My  father  says :  "  I  should  n't  wonder  a  bit !  " 
He  begins  to  smile.  He  says :  "  No  tellin',  maybe 
you  '11  have  to  miss  church  to  help  clear  out  the 
roads." 

Uncle  Anthony  laughs.  He  says :  "  Like  as 
not!" 

My  father  and  Uncle  Anthony  hardly  ever  go  to 
church  unless  there  is  a  funeral.  Grandpa  Tyler 
and  Mr.  White  are  just  the  same. 

98 


XVII 

There  Is  a  Big  Snow  Storm,  and  the  "  Youth's 
Companion  "  Does  n't  Come 

WE  hear  my  brother  and  my  father  come  in 
through  the  woodshed  door.  They  stamp  a 
great  deal,  and  then  we  hear  them  sweeping  the  snow 
off  their  feet  and  out  of  the  door.  They  come  in  and 
wash. 

My  father  says :  "  I  declare,  it 's  all  you  can  do 
to  see  from  the  barn  to  the  house !  Makes  me  think 
of  what  they  say  about  the  blizzards  out  in  Dakota." 

We  all  sit  down  to  dinner.  My  mother  says :  "  I 
read  of  a  man  out  there  the  other  day  that  got  lost 
going  from  his  house  to  his  barn.  When  it  cleared 
up,  they  found  him  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  barn. 
'T  ain't  safe  to  go  out  without  holding  on  to  a  rope 
tied  to  your  house,  out  there,  they  say." 

We  have  fried  salt  pork,  potatoes  and  gravy,  and 
onions  sliced  in  vinegar.  My  brother  sits  and  eats 
without  saying  anything.  When  I  ask  him  for 
things,  he  passes  them  without  stopping  or  looking 
at  me. 

When  we  get  through,  I  get  up  and  look  out 
99 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


through  the  north  window.  The  glass  is  all  steam. 
I  rub  the  steam  off  with  my  hand.  I  can  just  see 
the  barnyard  fence,  and  that 's  all.  Everything  is 
all  white. 

My  father  says :  "  Anthony  was  right  about  the 
road.  We  '11  have  it  to  do  all  over  again  to-mor 
row." 

The  window  sill  outside  is  all  snow.  The  wind 
makes  a  rushing  noise.  The  snow  makes  a  little 
ticking  sound  when  it  blows  onto  the  glass.  In  some 
places  the  steam  is  beginning  to  turn  to  frost. 

My  father  says :  "  This  is  about  the  worst  we  've 
had  yet,  ain't  it?  Seems  to  me  we  're  getting  a  good 
deal  o'  snow  this  winter." 

We  all  sit  around  and  read.  At  half  past  two,  I 
say :  "  I  guess  I  '11  go  down  to  the  depot." 

I  always  go  down  to  meet  the  three  o'clocks  on 
Saturday,  because  that  is  the  time  the  Youth's  Com 
panion  comes. 

My  brother  says:  "Well,  you  must  be  sick! 
You  think  they  '11  be  any  trains  through  to-day?  " 

But  I  keep  thinking  of  the  Companion  and  the  con- 
100 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

tinued  story.  I  think  of  the  way  Mr.  White  tears 
the  wrapper  off  the  bundle,  and  folds  every  paper 
and  puts  it  in  the  right  place.  I  think  how  smooth 
the  paper  feels,  and  of  the  fresh  paper  smell. 

I  put  my  cap  and  comforter  and  mittens  on,  and 
go  down  the  hill.  The  snow  is  so  deep  I  can  hardly 
walk,  and  I  soon  get  warm  and  out  of  breath.  The 
wind  blows  the  snow  into  my  face  until  I  can  hardly 
see. 

When  I  get  half  way  down  the  depot  hill,  I  can  see 
that  the  rails  are  all  covered  up.  No  one  would 
know  there  was  a  railroad  track  there,  if  it  weren't 
for  the  switches. 

There  is  nobody  in  the  store  but  Mr.  White. 
When  I  go  in,  he  is  reading  a  newspaper. 

Mr.  White  looks  at  me  over  his  glasses.  He  says : 
"  I  'm  awful  'fraid  you  won't  get  your  Companion 
to-day." 

I  say :  "  I  thought  maybe  that 's  how  it  would 
be,  but  I  thought  it  might  come."  I  feel  disap 
pointed. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  The  girls  '11  be  sorry.  And 
hanged  if  I  know  what  to  do  without  it  myself,  I  'm  so 
used  to  havin'  it  come  Saturday.  I  kind  o'  like  it  for 
part  o'  my  Sunday  readin'." 

Mr.  White  gets  up  and  looks  at  the  clock.  He 
says :  "  Quarter  to  three.  Well,  I  s'pose  I  must 
get  at  the  mail.  I  know  mighty  well  they  won't  be 
no  trains  out  to-day,  but  I  s'pose  I  '11  have  to  get 

101 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

it  ready  same  's  if  they  was  comin'.  The  gover'ment 
's  mighty  strict  about  the  mail."  He  is  always  tell 
ing  about  how  strict  the  government  is. 

Mr.  White  goes  behind  the  counter  where  the  mail 
case  is.  He  says :  "  Of  course,  they  might  come, 
but  then  I  don't  much  expect  it."  He  takes  a  bunch 
of  letters  out  of  one  of  the  holes  in  the  case,  and  picks 
up  his  stamp. 

First  he  stamps  all  the  postage  stamps.  That  is 
to  cancel  them.  Then  he  takes  another  stamp,  and 
stamps  the  date. 

Mr.  White  is  very  careful,  and  brings  the  stamp 
down  hard  on  the  letter  right  in  the  same  place,  and 
then  presses  on  it.  Sometimes  he  stamps  one  again. 
He  says :  "  The  gover'ment  wants  'em  stamped  so  's 
you  can  see  the  date  and  the  name  o'  the  post  office 
good  and  plain." 

When  he  is  through  stamping,  he  ties  the  letters 
all  up  together  with  some  coarse,  woolly  string.  He 
cuts  the  string  with  his  scissors,  and  says: 
"There!" 

Then  he  puts  the  packet  of  letters  in  the  mail  bag. 
The  bag  is  leather,  and  has  rivets  around  the  bottom 
and  up  the  side,  and  leather  handles.  At  the  top, 
Mr.  White  runs  a  long  strap  through  a  lot  of  iron 
things,  and  locks  it.  He  pushes  it  out  on  the  coun 
ter. 

.Johnnie  comes  in.  He  stamps  his  feet,  and  knocks 
the  snow  off  his  cap.  He  says :  "  You  need  n't 

102 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

mind  about  the  mail  to-day,  White.  Everything  's 
laid  off  on  both  lines." 

Then  he  says  to  me:  "Well,  you  might  just  as 
well  go  on  home  now.  You  won't  get  no  letter  from 
her  to-day." 

Johnnie  is  always  making  fun  of  me  that  way. 
He  pretends  I  like  the  girls. 

I  start  home.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  I  meet  Tip. 
He  has  to  lift  up  the  rim  of  his  cap  to  see  me. 

I  say :  "  Everything 's  laid  off  on  both  lines. 
Johnnie  just  said  so.  No  Youth's  Companion  to 
day!" 

Tip  says :  "  A-aw,  now  we  got  to  wait  till  Mon 
day  to  see  how  the  story  's  a-goin'  to  come  out ! " 

We  stand  there  a  minute.  Tip  says :  "  Maybe 
it  '11  stop,  and  number  one  '11  get  out  to-night  before 
the  store  is  shut." 

I  say :  "  No,  Johnnie  said  everything  was  laid  off 
for  to-day."  I  say :  "  Come  on  back  home  with 
me!" 

Tip  says :     "  I  can't." 

I  say :     "  Why  can't  you  ?  " 

Tip  says :  "  'Cause.  I  got  to  get  a  pound  o' 
sugar  for  auntie.  Pa  said  I  had  to." 

We  say  good-bye,  and  I  start  on  home.  The  wind 
blows  so  hard  on  my  back  that  it  almost  blows  me 
over. 


101 


XVIII 

It  Is  Cold  at  School,  and  Teacher  Lets  Us  Do 
as  We  Please 

IT  is  a  terribly  cold  morning.     It  always  seems  as 
if  Monday  could  be  colder  than  any  other  morn 
ing  in  the  week. 

My  mother  says  to  me :  "  Yes,  of  course  you  '11 
go !  There  '11  be  sure  to  be  a  few  there,  and  you 
don't  want  to  miss.  Hurry  up,  it 's  quarter  to  nine ! 
You  can  run  on  the  crust,  and  be  there  in  no  time." 

I  break  in  a  little  going  through  the  front  yard, 
but  the  banks  along  the  road  hold  me  up  all  right. 
It  makes  a  nice,  crisp  sound  when  I  run.  My  tracks 
hardly  show  at  all,  the  crust  is  so  hard.  I  keep 
going  up  and  down,  because  the  banks  are  high  in 
some  places  and  low  in  others.  They  wind  in  and 
'out,  just  the  way  the  rail  fence  does. 

Once  when  I  run  down  between  two  high  parts  my 
foot  goes  through,  and  I  go  down  flat.  I  break  the 
crust  in  all  around.  My  pail  flies  open,  and  some  of 
the  bread  and  butter  rolls  out.  I  put  it  back  and 
get  up  and  run  on. 

My  comforter  comes  up  over  my  nose.  It  gets 
warm  and  wet  around  my  mouth,  and  smells  of  the 
wool.  There  is  a  little  ice  on  the  outside  of  it. 

104 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

The  schoolhouse  is  almost  empty.  Teacher  is  fix 
ing  the  fire.  There  are  only  five  or  six  scholars.  It 
is  cold  and  frosty  all  over  the  room.  We  can  see  our 


breaths.  The  window  panes  are  all  thick  frost. 
There  is  smoke  in  the  room. 

Teacher  says :  "  You  'd  better  keep  your  things 
on  and  stay  near  the  stove  for  a  while,  till  it  gets 
warmer." 

We  hear  someone  come  into  the  entry.  They 
stamp  and  then  sweep  off.  It  is  my  brother  and 
Edie.  They  both  come  in  through  the  girls'  door. 
He  always  carries  her  books  when  she  has  any. 

By  and  by  there  is  louder  stamping.  The  door 
opens,  and  Syd  and  little  Joe  come  in.  Little  Joe 
blows  his  fingers. 

My  brother  looks  at  Little  Joe.  He  says :  "  Joe, 
105 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

you  got  a  frozen  ear !  Better  hurry  up  and  get  some 
snow  on  it !  " 

Little  Joe  says:  "  Oh,  go  on,  w'at  you  givin'  me? 
You  're  a-tryin'  to  'oax  me.  I  know  you !  " 

Syd  says :  "  No  he  ain't,  Joe.  'Cross  my  heart ! 
It 's  plum  white,  I  '11  leave  it  to  Edie." 

We  all  run  to  look  at  Little  Joe's  ear.  It  is  white 
all  around  the  rim.  Little  Joe  looks  at  Syd  and  my 
brother  to  see  if  they  really  mean  it,  and  runs  out 
with  his  hand  on  his  ear.  He  comes  right  back,  hold 
ing  a  big  handful  of  snow  up  to  it.  He  stands  by  the 
stove  with  the  snow  on  his  ear  quite  a  while.  It  be 
gins  to  melt  and  run  down  the  side  of  his  face. 

Syd  says :  "  That 's  long  enough.  Take  it  off 
now." 

Little  Joe  takes  the  snow  off.  His  ear  is  bright 
red.  He  feels  of  it.  He  says :  "  I  s'pose  it  '11  be 
gin  to  sting  pretty  soon.  I  don't  see  'ow  it  could  of 
'appened.  I  never  felt  nothink !  " 

Teacher  calls  school.  He  just  rings  the  bell  at 
the  desk,  and  does  n't  go  to  the  door  at  all.  There 
are  only  ten  or  twelve  of  us. 

We  all  stand  by  the  stove  as  much  as  we  want  to. 
Teacher  hears  the  classes  sitting  in  the  aisle  near  the 
stove.  He  does  n't  care  about  the  rules  at  all.  He 
is  good-natured.  We  all  like  him. 

My  brother  and  Edie  stand  by  the  stove  quite  a 
long  time.  They  whisper  all  they  want  to. 

Little  Joe's  ear  is  thick  and  red.  Every  little 
106 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

while  he  puts  his  hand  against  it.  When  we  look,  he 
points  at  it,  and  shakes  his  head,  and  draws  in  his 
breath  through  his  teeth.  He  whispers  that  it 
haches. 

At  noon  it  is  a  good  deal  quieter  than  other  days. 
There  are  n't  so  many  of  us.  Teacher  has  his  din 
ner  to-day,  too.  He  has  it  in  a  little  basket,  and  sits 
up  behind  the  desk  with  it.  We  watch  him  eat.  We 
don't  say  very  much. 

My  brother  and  Edie  eat  dinner  together  in  her 
seat.  We  can't  hear  what  they  say. 

When  we  get  through,  we  go  to  the  entry  for  a 
drink.  The  water  pail  has  thick  ice  in  it.  We 
break  it.  When  we  drink,  little  pieces  of  ice  try  to 
get  into  our  mouths. 

We  go  in  again.  Tip  says :  "  Come  on  over  here 
to  the  window,  and  watch  me  stick  a  penny  on  the 
frost."  He  presses  a  penny  against  the  pane  till  it 
sticks. 

Syd  comes  and  sticks  a  quarter  there.  Syd  al 
ways  has  money  in  his  pocket.  Tip  and  I  are  always 
talking  about  what  we  would  buy  if  we  only  had  as 
much  money  as  Syd. 

The  money  gets  stuck  so  tight  that  it  won't  come 
off.  Syd  says :  "  You  have  to  press  your  thumb  on 
till  the  penny  is  warm,  so  it  '11  thaw  the  frost  and  let 
it  off." 

Tip  says :  "  Aw,  I  know  that !  I  done  this  be 
fore." 

107 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

After  school  calls,  I  hold  up  my  hand  and  say  to 
teacher:  "  Can  I  sit  with  Tip  this  afternoon?  " 

Teacher  says :     "  Yes,  if  you  '11  be  good  boys." 

That  makes  Bill  think  he  'd  like  to  sit  with  some 
one.  He  holds  up  his  hand  and  asks  if  he  can  sit 
with  Georgie. 

Pretty  soon  August  holds  up  his  hand,  too.  He 
says:  "  Can  I  set  by  Fritz  a  little  vhile?  " 

Teacher  smiles.  He  says :  "  I  s'pose  so."  He 
says:  "Anybody  else?  I  s'pose  you  all  want  to 
change  seats  now." 

Gertie  holds  her  hand  up.  Teacher  says :  "  All 
right,"  almost  before  she  has  it  up.  He  laughs. 

Tip  and  I  work  examples  together  for  a  while. 
Then  we  write.  Then  we  have  a  game  of  tit-tat-toe. 
Tip  knows  a  way  he  can  beat  every  time,  if  you  let 
him  have  first. 

When  we  get  home  after  school,  my  mother  says : 
"  Well,  who  was  at  school  ?  " 

I  tell  her  all  of  them.  When  I  come  to  my  brother 
and  Edie,  my  mother  says :  "  Oh  yes,  of  course 
she  'd  be  there  if  he  was."  She  says  it  as  if  she  were 
glad  of  it. 

My  brother  looks  cross  at  me.  When  we  get  out 
in  the  woodshed,  and  he  is  putting  on  his  overalls,  he 
says :  "  What  you  want  to  go  and  blab  everything 
for?" 


108 


XIX 

My  Father  Begins  to  Tap  Trees  in  the  Sugar-bush 

MY  mother  says :     "  What  a  fine  spring  morn 
ing  !     Is  n't  it  nice  to  think  we  sha'n't  have 
any  more  awful  cold  ?  " 

My  father  says  to  my  brother  and  me :  "  Well, 
to-day  's  Saturday,  and  you  're  both  home.  I  guess 
we  '11  get  the  pails  and  spiles  set  around  by  the  trees. 
The  sap  may  begin  to  run  any  time  now,  and  we  want 
to  be  ready." 

My  father  eats  a  few  more  buckwheat  cakes.  We 
are  having  the  last  of  the  buckwheat  flour  this  week, 
and  the  last  of  the  pork  sausage  with  the  sage  in  it. 

By  and  by  my  father  says :  "  I  should  n't  wonder 
a  great  deal  if  it  'd  run  to-day." 

He  gets  up  from  the  table.  He  says  to  my 
brother :  "  You  might  go  out  and  hitch  up  the  old 
mares.  While  you  're  doin'  it  we  '11  go  over  to  the 
shop  and  finish  the  spiles  and  bring  'em." 

My  father  and  I  go  across  to  Uncle  Anthony's 
shop.  My  father  keeps  all  his  tools  there,  and  goes 
there  to  do  his  carpenter  work.  There  is  a  big  bas 
ketful  of  spiles  all  made,  and  a  little  pile  of  square 
pine  sticks.  They  are  about  half  a  foot  long. 

109 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  fastens  one  of  the  sticks  in  the  vise. 
He  takes  his  bit  and  brace  and  bores  a  hole  into  the 
end  of  the  stick,  lengthways,  about  half  way  through. 
Then  he  takes  the  drawshave  and  cuts  away  from  the 
upper  side  of  the  stick  until  he  comes  to  the  hole  he 
bored.  After  that,  he  gouges  a  little  round  trough 
all  the  way  to  the  end  of  the  spile.  Then  he  whittles 
down  the  end  he  bored  into,  until  it  fits  into  a  hole  he 
has  in  the  side  of  the  bench.  He  throws  the  spile 
into  the  basket  with  the  rest. 

My  father  has  only  a  few  more  to  make.  When  he 
is  through,  he  takes  the  big  basket  and  I  take  the 
little  one,  and  we  carry  them  over  to  our  barn  and 
put  them  in  the  sleigh. 

My  brother  has  the  sleigh  all  ready,  and  we  all  get 
in.  He  drives  out  to  the  brush  west  of  the  house, 
and  down  through  and  across  to  the  woods. 

The  snow  is  half  gone.  Once  in  a  while  there  are 
bare  spots,  except  in  the  brush  and  woods.  The 
crust  is  so  hard  the  horses'  feet  almost  get  caught  in 
it  when  they  cut  through. 

We  drive  through  the  big  trees  and  up  the  hill  to 
the  sap-house.  My  father  takes  the  door  out,  and 
he  and  my  brother  carry  out  the  pails.  They  are  in 
tall  columns.  I  see  the  sheet  iron  pan  in  there.  It 
makes  me  think  of  the  time  Tip  and  I  blacked  up  with 
soot  from  the  bottom  of  it  and  played  nigger  show. 

They  put  the  pails  in  the  sleigh,  as  many  as  they 
can,  and  we  drive  around  in  the  woods  with  them. 

110 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Every  little  way  we  leave  a  column  of  pails,  and 
enough  spiles  to  go  around.  I  jump  off  and  on.  It 
is  fine  running  around  on  the  hard  crust.  The  snow 
is  n't  very  deep  anywhere  except  in  the  hollows  fac 
ing  north. 

Pretty  soon  my  father  says :  "  Well,  't  ain't  so 
cold  as  I  thought  it  was  this  morning  when  I  got  up. 
If  it  keeps  on  at  this  rate,  I  believe  I  can  begin  to  tap 
this  afternoon.  It 's  almost  thawing  now." 

My  brother  drives  on.  We  unload  some  more 
pails.  When  we  get  all  the  load  off,  we  drive  back  to 
the  sap-house  for  more. 

My  brother  says :  "  How  many  of  'em  are  there 
all  together  ?  Did  you  ever  count  'em  ?  " 

My  father  says :  "  I  expec£  I  '11  tap  near  on  to 
four  hundred  this  year.  It 's  goin'  to  take  some  lit 
tle  time  to  get  around  to  'em  all." 

All  at  once  my  father  points  to  a  tree.  He  says : 
"  There,  look  at  that !  See  that  woodpecker  over  on 
that  tree?  There's  sap  running  down,  and  he's 
drinkin'  it.  By  jolly,  if  sap  '11  run  for  woodpeckers 
it  '11  run  for  us  !  I  '11  get  right  at  it !  " 

My  father  says  to  me :  "  You  run  up  to  the  sap- 
house  and  get  me  the  bit  and  brace  and  hammer, 
and  I  '11  begin  right  away.  See  how  fast  you  can 
go!" 

I  go  dodging  through  the  trees  across  the  hollow 
and  up  the  sap-house  hill.  I  am  soon  back. 

My  father  takes  the  bit  and  brace.  He  says  to 
111 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

my  brother :  "  You  can  finish  leaving  the  pails,  and 
by  that  time  your  ma  '11  want  us  for  dinner." 

My  father  sits  down  on  his  toes  in  front  of  a  tree. 
He  bores  into  it  a  couple  of  inches  or  more.  He  does 
it  almost  always  on  the  south  side,  because  he  says 
it  is  warmer  on  that  side.  He  draws  the  bit  out,  and 
pokes  the  chips  out  of  the  hole  with  his  finger.  Some 
drops  of  sap  come  rolling  out,  too.  Then  I  hand  him 
a  spile.  He  drives  it  in  with  two  or  three  little  taps 
of  the  hammer.  I  have  a  pail  ready  to  put  under. 
I  make  sure  it  is  firm  and  won't  tip  over. 

We  stand  and  wait  a  while,  and  watch  the  hole  in 
the  spile.  All  of  a  sudden  the  sap  comes  out,  and 
runs  down  to  the  end  of  the  spile  and  begins  to  drop 
into  the  pail.  It  makes  a  noise  like  dup,  dup,  dup, 
dup! 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  well !  if  they  all  run  like 
that,  't  ain't  a-goin'  to  take  long  to  get  me  pretty 
busy ! " 

We  go  on  to  another  tree.  After  the  first  two  or 
three,  my  father  stops  waiting  to  see  whether  the  sap 
comes  out.  But  I  like  to  stand  there  until  I  see  it 
come,  and  hear  it  go  dup,  dup,  dup,  dup!  — 

My  father  says :  "  That 's  right,  you  watch  it. 
If  it  don't  come,  run  the  stem  of  a  leaf  or  something 
in,  and  see  if  that  won't  start  it.  Sometimes  I  might 
not  get  all  the  chips  out,  and  they  might  stop  it 
up." 

After  a  while  I  run  back  to  the  first  tree.  I  pick 
112 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

the  pail  up,  and  drink  what  is  in  it.  It  is  cool  and 
sweet,  but  there  is  n't  very  much.  I  wish  it  would 
run  faster. 


113 


XX 

Tip  and  Bill  and  Georgie  Go  with  Me  to  the  Arch 

SCHOOL  is  out.     We  grab  our  pails  and  run  out 
and  across  the  yard  and  up  the  road  toward  the 
woods. 

Bill  says :  "  I  wonder  if  it  '11  be  brown  yet.  Do 
you  think  it  will  ?  " 

I  say :     "  I  don't  know.     He  began  to  boil  down 

•/  o 

this  forenoon." 

We  run  so  fast  we  soon  begin  to  puff.  Tip  says : 
"  Hoi'  on !  I  got  the  sideache ! "  He  finds  a  place 
where  the  snow  is  all  off,  and  leans  away  over  as  far 
as  he  can  and  lifts  up  a  stone  and  spits  in  the  place 
where  it  was.  He  puts  the  stone  back  right  in  the 
same  place. 

Georgie  says:     "Cure  it?" 

Tip  says :  "  O5  course !  That  always  cures  it. 
I  never  knew  it  to  fail." 

We  start  to  run  again.  Bill  says :  "  Dast  you 
ask  your  father  for  a  drink  of  it  if  it  Js  brown  ?  " 

I  say :     "  /  don'  know.     Maybe." 

We  come  to  the  woods.  We  jump  over  the  fence 
and  start  down  the  hill  on  the  run.  We  go  so  fast  it 
is  all  we  can  do  to  keep  from  running  into  the  trees. 

114 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Pretty  soon  there  are  pails  all  around.  We  stop 
and  look  into  them.  There  is  n't  a  great  deal  of  sap 
in  them.  My  father  must  have  gathered  from  this 
side  of  the  woods  this  forenoon. 

Some  of  the  pails  are  red,  and  some  are  green,  and 
some  blue,  and  some  yellow  and  striped.  We  can  see 
them  all  over  the  woods. 

George  says :  "  Come  on !  Le'  's  have  a  drink ! 
I  'm  goin'  to  get  one  out  o'  this  nice  green  pail." 

Bill  says :  "  Oh,  I  'm  goin'  to  wait  and  see  if  we 
won't  get  a  drink  o'  the  nice  brown  out  o'  the  big  pan. 
Come  on ! " 

We  can  see  the  sap-house  down  there  through  the 
trees.  There  is  smoke  and  steam  coming  up  from 
the  arch.  We  start  and  run  harder  than  ever. 

When  we  get  near  the  arch,  we  slow  down.  We 
walk,  and  we  don't  talk  so  loud.  The  boys  let  me  go 
first.  We  are  all  out  of  breath. 

There  is  black  smoke  coming  out  of  the  sheet  iron 
chimney  at  the  end  of  the  arch.  Right  behind  it  is 
the  big  black  kettle.  The  kettle  is  steaming  quite  a 
little.  But  the  steam  is  just  rolling  off  the  big  sheet 
iron  pan  that  is  over  the  main  part  of  the  arch.  It 
is  so  thick  that  when  we  walk  through  it  every 
thing  is  white.  It  feels  warm,  and  has  a  sweet 
smell. 

My  father  is  putting  some  long  sticks  of  wood  into 
the  fire  under  the  big  pan.  There  is  a  big  blaze  in 
there.  He  sets  a  big  piece  of  sheet  iron  up  in  front 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

of  it  for  a  screen.  He  has  a  board  from  the  sap- 
house  for  a  seat.  It  is  fixed  up  on  two  logs,  and  has 
a  tree  for  a  back  where  he  sits. 

After  he  has  the  wood  in,  he  goes  and  sits  down 
again.  He  puts  one  leg  over  the  other,  and  clasps 
his  hands  on  his  knee.  He  looks  at  the  fire  under  the 
screen. 

We  go  up  to  the  side  of  the  big  pan,  and  look  in. 
We  stand  on  the  side  where  the  steam  does  n't  blow 
on  us. 

Tip  says :     "  Kin  you  see  it  down  in  there?  " 

Georgie  looks,  and  I  look.  Bill  stoops  over  until 
his  face  is  close  to  the  steam.  We  can't  see  anything 
but  white  steam.  We  can  hear  it  boiling,  down  there 
under  the  steam. 

All  of  a  sudden  Georgie  says :  "  There !  I  saw 
it  —  just  as  plain  !  " 

Tip  says :     "  So  'd  I." 

Bill  says :  "  Yes,  you  did !  In  a  pig's  eye  you 
did!" 

I  look  again.  I  see  it,  too,  after  a  while.  It  is 
brownish,  and  full  of  bubbles.  It  boils  like  every 
thing. 

Bill  says :  "  How  did  it  look  ?  I  could  n't  see 
nothin'.  Was  it  brown,  hey  ?  " 

Tip  says:  "  You  bet  it  was  !  It  looked  just  like 
coffee." 

Bill  stands  right  close  to  me.  He  pokes  me  with 
his  elbow. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  say:  "Stop!  What 're  you  doin'?  What's 
the  matter  with  you?  " 

Bill  whispers :  "  Come  on !  You  know !  Go 
ahead !  "  I  know  Bill  wants  me  to  ask  my  father  for 
some  of  the  sap  out  of  the  pan.  I  don't  like  to. 

Bill  whispers  again:  "Don't  you  dast  ask  him? 
Go  ahead !  He  won't  care.  Come  on !  "  He  wipes 
his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

I  stand  still  a  while.  Then  I  go  over  to  where  my 
father  is  sitting.  He  is  reading  a  book  now. 

I  stand  right  near,  and  wait  until  my  father  looks 
up.  I  say :  "  Pa,  can  we  have  a  little  o'  the  sap 
out  o'  the  big  pan  ?  " 

My  father  thinks  a  while.  He  says :  "  Yes,  I 
guess  we  can  afford  you  a  drop  or  two.  You  must  n't 
take  too  much,  though.  You  don't  want  to  make 
yourself  sick.  And  of  course  you  must  n't  forget 
what  a  lot  o'  work  it  takes  to  make  it." 

I  go  and  get  the  dipper.  I  step  up  to  the  pan, 
and  lower  the  dipper  into  the  steam.  I  can't  see  the 
dipper  and  the  sap  at  all.  I  can  just  feel  the  sap. 
It  boils  so  hard  it  moves  the  dipper. 

I  dip  some  sap,  and  lift  it  out.  There  is  n't  very 
much. 

Bill  whispers :  "  Dip  in  again !  That  ain't 
enough  to  go  'round.  Dip  in  deeper !  " 

I  hold  the  dipper  up  and  pour  out  the  sap  so  they 
all  can  see.  Georgie  says :  "  M-m-m-m !  Ain't  it 
fine  ?  "  Bill  wipes  his  mouth  again. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  clip  in  a  little  deeper.  It  steams  in  the  dipper 
when  I  take  it  out. 

Georgie  says :  "  We  must  be  careful  and  not  burn 
our  mouths.  We  must  set  the  dipper  in  some  snow 
first." 

I  set  the  dipper  down  on  some  snow  by  the  sap- 
house.  I  work  it  in  a  little,  so  it  won't  fall  or  slip. 
We  all  stand  and  look  at  it.  The  sap  is  nice  and 
brown.  We  can't  see  the  bottom  of  the  dipper. 

Bill  gives  me  a  poke.  He  says :  "  Come  on ! 
It 's  cool  enough  now." 

I  pick  up  the  dipper.  I  hand  it  to  Tip  first.  Tip 
drinks  a  little,  and  hands  it  to  Bill.  Bill  almost 
grabs  it. 

Bill  drinks.  Georgie  stands  looking  at  him.  He 
has  his  hand  all  ready  to  take  the  dipper. 

Bill  drinks  so  long  that  Georgie  gives  his  arm  a 
little  shove. 

Bill  says :  "  Look  out !  What  you  doin'?  Want 
to  make  me  spill  it  ?  " 

Georgie  says :  "  I  'm  'fraid  they  won't  be  none 
left  if  you  don't  stop." 

Bill  gives  him  the  dipper.  He  says :  "  All  right, 
take  it  then,  if  you  want  it  so  bad !  " 

Georgie  drinks,  and  I  take  what  is  left.  It  is  n't 
much,  but  I  know  I  can  have  more  some  other  time. 


118 


XXI 

I  Help  My  Father  Gather  Sap  and  Boil  Down 

TIP  says :     "  Le'  's  carry  up  some  o'  that  wood 
for  your  father." 

Georgie  says  :     "  All  right,  come  on !  " 

My  father  has  been  chopping  up  some  old  dead 
limbs  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  We  carry  quite  a 
pile  of  it,  and  put  it  near  where  he  sits. 

My  father  says :  "  That  '11  save  me  quite  a  few 
steps." 

After  a  while,  Bill  says :  "  Well,  I  got  to  go.  I 
got  chores  to  do." 

I  go  with  the  boys  as  far  as  the  road  fence  at  the 
top  of  the  woods.  We  stand  talking  a  minute. 

Georgie  says  to  me :  "  Your  father  taps  more 
trees  'n  any  of  'em,  don't  he?  " 

Bill  says:  "Yes,  you  bet  your  boots  he  does! 
An'  he  can  boil  down  better  'n  the  hull  of  'em,  can't 
he?" 

I  say :  "  Some  night  when  my  brother  is  boiling 
down,  le'  's  ask  him  to  let  us  come  along.  Shall  we?  " 

Tip  says :  "  Yes,  you  bet  you !  And  we  '11  boil 
eggs  in  the  pan,  and  bake  some  potatoes  in  the  coals. 
Won't  we?" 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Bill  says :  "  We  '11  have  fun  playin'  hide-and-go- 
seek  and  tellin'  stories." 

Georgie  says :  "  Yah,  you  can  have  lots  o'  fun 
that  way." 

Bill  says :  "  I  '11  show  you  how  to  make  a  live  coal 
explode,  too.  You  just  lay  it  on  a  piece  of  iron, 
and  spit  on  it  first,  and  then  you  hit  it  a  good  crack 
with  a  hammer,  and  it  '11  go  off  and  make  a  noise  as 
loud  as  a  cannon." 

Georgie  says :  "  Aw,  go  on !  S'pose  we  believe 
that  ?  You  can't  either  do  it !  " 

Bill  says:  "  I  can't,  hey?  Well  I  bet  I  can,  and 
I  '11  show  you !  You  need  n't  think  you  're  so 
smart ! " 

Georgie  says:     "  You  will,  will  you?     All  right!  " 

BiU  says :     "  Yes,  I  will,  if  you  want  to  know !  " 

Georgie  says :     "  M-hm !     As  loud  as  a  cannon." 

Bill  says :  "  Oh,  well,  maybe  not  quite  as  loud  as 
a  reg'lar  cannon.  But  anyhow,  as  loud  as  a  re- 
vawlver." 

Bill  is  always  saying  "  revawlver,"  and  he  says 
"  hawler  "  instead  of  holler. 

I  go  back  to  the  arch.  My  father  is  just  putting 
the  big  basswood  yoke  on  his  shoulders.  At  the  ends 
he  has  pieces  of  clothesline,  with  hooks.  He  carries 
two  big  pails  at  a  time.  The  pails  hold  more  than 
two  wooden  pailfuls. 

My  father  says :  "  You  might  come  along,  I 
guess,  and  empty  the  pails  for  me.  Then  I  won't 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

have  to  stop  and  set  the  pails  down  so  many  times. 
Every  little  helps,  you  know." 

We  go  down  into  the  hollow  near  the  spring. 
There  are  five  or  six  big,  black-barked  maples  down 
there.  The  pails  are  running  over. 

My  father  says :  "  I  declare,  how  these  black- 
barked  ones  do  give  down !  "  He  goes  up  to  the  trees 
one  after  another,  and  I  pour  the  sap  into  his 
pails. 

My  father  says :  "  Look  out !  Be  careful  and 
don't  slop  it !  You  must  n't  forget  it 's  a  sort  of 
blood  from  the  tree,  and  we  must  n't  waste  it." 

It  makes  a  heavy  load  for  my  father,  going  up  the 
hill  to  the  arch.  He  is  all  out  of  breath  when  he 
empties  the  big  pails  into  the  barrel. 

I  say :  "  Pa,  why  don't  you  use  the  stone  boat,  or 
the  sleigh,  or  wheels,  or  something,  with  a  barrel,  like 
the  Bradleys?" 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  I  'm  'fraid  our  sugar-bush 
is  too  uneven  and  stony  for  that." 

We  start  down  the  hill  again.  My  father  says: 
"  And  besides,  I  've  always  done  it  this  way,  and  I 
like  to.  We  used  to  do  it  this  way  when  I  was  a  boy, 
'way  back  where  I  come  from." 

We  go  down  to  the  black-barked  trees  again. 
When  the  big  tin  pails  are  full,  my  father  says: 
"  Well,  that  finishes  the  gathering  for  this  time.  But 
it 's  running  a  good  lively  clip,  and  I  spect  I  '11  have 
to  begin  to  gather  again  to-morrow  morning." 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  start  back.  My  father  says :  "  You  see  it 's 
quite  a  little  work  to  make  maple  sugar." 

When  we  get  up  to  the  arch,  my  father  empties 
the  pails  again.  We  sit  down  in  front  of  the  fire 
place  and  rest.  We  sit  quite  a  while. 

At  last  my  father  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  we  better 
fix  things  up  a  little  and  go  home  to  supper." 

He  takes  the  big  dipper  and  pours  a  lot  of  the  hot 
sap  out  of  the  big  black  kettle  into  the  sheet  iron 
pan.  He  fills  the  kettle  up  with  sap  out  of  the  barrel. 
Then  he  puts  a  few  sticks  into  the  fire,  and  fixes  the 
big  piece  of  sheet  iron  up  in  front  of  it. 

He  says :  "  Well,  come  on !  I  guess  that  '11  keep 
it  boiling  all  right  till  I  get  back  after  chores." 

We  start  down  the  hill  toward  home.  The  sun  is 
just  going  down.  It  looks  bright  red  through  the 
trees.  The  trees  look  black  over  that  way,  but  the 
other  way  they  are  lighter.  The  air  is  fine  and 
cool. 

My  father  says :  "  It  '11  freeze  again  to-night. 
It 's  beginning  already.  That 's  just  what  we  need 
for  sugar  —  frosty  nights,  and  thaw  in  the  day 
time." 

Our  feet  crunch  on  the  snow.  It  is  nice  and  easy 
walking  when  the  snow  is  hard  and  almost  gone  this 
way. 

I  say :  "  Pa,  can  I  come  along  some  night  when 
you  're  boiling  down  ?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  sometime  when  I  'm  goin' 
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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

to  get  done  earlier.  It  '11  be  pretty  late  to-night, 
and  your  ma  would  n't  want  you  out  so  long. 
There  's  all  that  in  the  barrels,  you  see,  and  it  '11  take 
quite  a  while." 


138 


XXII 

My  Father  and  Mother  Sugar  Off,  and  Make  Syrup 

I  TUCK  the  mail  into  my  inside  pocket. 
Mr.  White  says :     "  'S  your  father  begun  to 
make  sugar  yet?     Seems  to  me  this  is  the  sort  o' 
weather  for  it." 

I  say :  "  Yes,  he  boiled  down  yesterday  for  the 
first  time.  We  're  going  to  sugar  off  to-night,  I 
guess." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Say,  tell  him  to  save  me  a 
gallon  o'  syrup  and  two  or  three  pounds  of  the  sugar, 
will  ye?" 

When  we  are  through  supper,  my  father  says  to 
my  mother :  "  Well,  shall  we  try  to  sugar  off  to 
night?" 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  7  'm  all  ready.  I 
s'posed  of  course  you  was  going  to." 

My  father  says :  "  All  right,  then.  As  soon  as 
we  come  in  from  chores,  le'  's  begin."  He  gets  up. 

He  says :  "  I  s'pose  it  might  be  heating  while 
we  're  gone.  I  '11  put  some  of  it  on,  sha'n't  I  ?  " 

My  father  gets  the  deep,  black  iron  pan  with  the 
handles  at  the  ends.  My  mother  and  I  hold  a  piece 
of  white  cloth  for  him,  and  he  pours  one  of  the  tin 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

pails  full  of  syrup  through.  He  brought  them  home 
last  night  after  we  were  all  asleep.  It  fills  the  pan 
half  full. 

At  the  Bradleys'  they  sugar  off  in  the  sap-house. 
We  always  do  it  at  home.  My  father  says :  "  Of 
course  it  makes  your  ma  a  little  more  work,  but  all 
the  things  are  here,  and  it 's  handier.  And  then,  I 
guess  she  kind  o'  likes  to  sugar  off,  anyway." 

I  know  my  mother  likes  it.  She  says  she  's  always 
glad  when  maple  sugar  time  comes.  She  says  she 
used  to  have  maple  sugar  when  she  was  a  little  girl 
and  played  with  the  Indians.  The  Indians  knew  how 
to  make  it  as  well  as  anybody.  They  did  n't  have 
pails,  but  they  made  troughs  with  their  axes.  They 
cut  a  slanting  gash  in  the  side  of  the  tree  instead  of 
boring  a  hole,  and  fixed  a  big  chip  so  it  would  make 
the  sap  drop  into  the  trough. 

My  father  fixes  the  fire.  He  takes  the  milk  pails, 
and  starts  to  go.  He  says :  "  Of  course  if  it  should 
begin  to  boil  hard  before  I  get  back,  you  must  kind  o' 
see  to  it  that  it  don't  boil  over." 

When  my  father  gets  back,  my  mother  is  skimming 
the  syrup.  I  am  just  tall  enough  to  look  into  the 
pan.  There  is  quite  a  good  deal  of  steam.  The 
syrup  is  boiling  up  in  two  or  three  places  where  it  is 
hottest.  In  one  or  two  places  there  is  scum.  There 
is  a  nice  smell  in  the  room. 

The  scum  looks  thick  and  white.  My  mother  puts 
the  skimmer  under  it,  and  lifts  up.  She  holds  it  there 

125 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

until  the  syrup  does  n't  drop  any  longer,  and  then 
she  lets  the  scum  run  off  the  skimmer  into  a  white 
dish.  The  fire  is  blazing  up  good  and  hot. 

My  father  strains  the  milk  and  sets  it  away.  He 
puts  the  pails  and  the  strainer  in  the  sink. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  '11  wash  the  pails  and  things 
now.  You  better  watch  this,  'cause  it 's  boiling  up 
good  and  hard." 

I  go  and  look  in  again.  It  is  boiling  hard  all  over 
now.  The  scum  gets  together  in  one  corner.  My 
father  skims  it  out  once  in  a  while.  There  is  quite 
a  little  in  the  white  dish. 

I  get  a  spoon  and  push  the  top  of  the  scum  aside 
in  the  dish.  It  is  brown  when  I  get  the  white  away. 
There  is  always  a  little  syrup  settles. 

I  say:     "  Pa,  what  is  scum  made  of?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Hard  tellin'  what  't  is  made 
of.  It 's  impurities  of  some  kind,  I  s'pose.  But  it 
don't  seem  to  be  real  dirt." 

I  taste  of  the  scum.  It  tastes  like  syrup,  only  it 
is  smooth,  and  not  so  sweet.  The  syrup  under  it  is 
better. 

When  I  look  in  again,  the  pan  is  all  brown,  shiny 
bubbles  everywhere.  Most  of  them  are  little,  but 
there  are  some  big  ones  that  break  with  a  puff  of 
steam.  The  syrup  is  getting  thick.  That 's  what 
makes  the  bubbles. 

My  father  stands  there  all  the  time  now.  The 
syrup  boils  up  so  high  that  he  has  to  stir  it  to  make 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

it  go  down.  Once  in  a  while  he  slides  the  pan  over 
to  where  the  stove  is  n't  quite  so  hot.  If  he  let  it 
alone,  it  would  boil  over  onto  the  stove. 

The  syrup  did  boil  over  once.  Everyone  ran,  and 
my  mother  screamed.  The}'  pushed  the  pan  back, 
and  began  to  stir  the  syrup  as  soon  as  they  could. 
It  made  .a  great  sputtering  on  the  stove,  and  the  room 
smelled  of  burned  sugar  for  a  long  time.  My  mother 
said  we  always  ought  to  have  a  little  lump  of  pork 
on  hand  to  throw  in  if  it  began  to  boil  over. 

My  father  dips  the  skimmer  in,  and  holds  it  up 
edgeways.  The  syrup  drops  off  as  if  it  were  quite 
thick. 

My  father  says :  "  It  '11  almost  do  for  molasses 
now." 

He  skims  and  watches  it  some  more.  Pretty  soon 
he  dips  in  and  tries  it  again.  He  says :  "  Well,  it 's 
ready  now.  Just  take  hold  o'  that  end,  will  you,  and 
le'  's  see  if  we  can't  set  it  off." 

They  set  the  pan  on  some  papers  on  the  floor. 
When  the  syrup  is  a  little  cooler,  my  father  takes  the 
dipper  and  tunnel  and  begins  to  pour  it  into  the  half 
gallon  jugs.  There  are  some  gallon  jugs,  too. 
They  are  brown,  and  have  big  mouths  and  flat  corks. 
They  are  so  hot  I  can't  hold  my  hand  on  them. 

My  mother  puts  some  of  the  syrup  into  glass  jars. 
She  sets  them  in  the  dripping-pan  first,  and  puts  the 
tunnel  in  the  top.  When  she  is  all  ready,  she  pours 
just  the  least  bit  in,  and  then  the  least  bit  more.  She 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

says  it  would  be  the  end  of  the  jars  if  she  put  it  in 
too  fast.  She  screws  the  top  on,  and  sets  the  jars 
on  the  window  sill.  They  feel  hotter  than  the  jugs. 

We  '11  have  the  syrup  that  is  in  the  jars  with  bread 
and  butter  at  supper  when  company  conies,  after 
maple  sugar  time  is  over.  Sometimes  we  '11  boil  some 
of  it  down  and  make  sugar. 

My  mother  says :  "  As  long  as  you  have  good 
bread  and  butter  and  maple  'lasses  in  the  house,  you 
need  n't  worry  if  company  does  come.  They  won't 
get  good  syrup  like  your  pa's  every  day,  I  can  tell 
'em!" 


128 


XXIII 


MY  father  sets  the  pan  back  on  the  stove.     He 
gets  the  other  big  tin  pail  and  empties  it  in. 
My  mother  and  I  have  it  all  ready  for  him. 

My  father  looks  at  me.  He  says :  "  Now  for  the 
sugar  part.  I  s'pose  you  think  that 's  more  inter 
esting." 

My  mother  pats  me  on  the  head.  She  says  :  "  Of 
course  you  do,  don't  you !  " 

By  and  by  she  says :  "  Well,  you  can  help  me 
with  the  tins  after  a  while,  when  your  pa  's  ready." 

My  father  fixes  the  fire  again,  and  stands  and 
watches  and  skims,  the  same  as  he  did  before.  Only 
he  has  to  be  a  little  more  particular  at  the  end. 

When  my  father  thinks  the  syrup  is  beginning  to 
get  thick,  he  tries  it  every  little  while  by  letting  it 
drop  from  the  edge  of  the  spoon.  The  first  time,  it 
drops  almost  like  water.  After  a  while,  it  sticks  to 
the  spoon  more. 

My  father  says :  "  S'posing  you  run  out  now  and 
get  a  little  snow.  We  '11  try  it  on  that.  Get  some 
that 's  good  and  clean !  " 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  mother  gets  me  a  basin.  I  run  out  and  around 
to  the  north  side  of  the  house.  Everywhere  else  the 
snow  is  gone.  I  scrape  the  top  off  the  little  bank 
that  is  left  there  near  the  water  spout.  It  is  hard, 
and  feels  almost  like  ice.  It  has  thawed  and  frozen 
a  good  many  times. 

I  get  some  from  under.  It  does  n't  take  long. 
When  I  come  back  I  am  all  out  of  breath. 

My  father  says :  "  I  thought  that  would  start 
you." 

My  mother  laughs.  My  father  says :  "  Pack  it 
down  nice  and  hard,  and  we  '11  begin  operations." 

I  pat  the  snow  down  all  over.  My  father  dips  into 
the  syrup,  and  puts  a  little  on  the  snow.  It  melts  a 
little  hole,  and  sinks  in  out  of  sight. 

My  father  picks  at  the  syrup  in  the  hole  with  the 
point  of  the  spoon.  He  says :  "  No,  't  ain't  thick 
enough  yet." 

We  wait  quite  a  while  longer.  The  bubbles  in  the 
pan  get  slower  and  slower,  as  if  they  were  sticky. 
There  are  more  big  bubbles  than  before,  and  bigger 
puffs  of  steam  when  they  break.  The  fine,  warm, 
sugary  smell  is  everywhere. 

My  father  says :     "  Well,  le'  's  try  again  now." 

I  bring  the  basin.  My  father  puts  some  more  on. 
It  begins  to  melt  the  snow,  but  it  is  thicker,  and  it 
does  n't  run  into  the  snow  at  all.  The  edges  of  the 
syrup  shrivel  up  a  little.  They  look  brownish  yellow, 
and  almost  as  clear  as  glass.  When  it  gets  that  way, 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

we  call  it  wax.  I  know  just  how  it's  going  to 
taste. 

My  father  picks  at  the  wax  with  his  spoon.  It 
sticks  to  the  spoon,  and  comes  out.  He  rolls  it  to 
gether  a  little,  and  it  sticks  again.  He  lifts  it  up. 
It  leaves  a  nice  little  hole  in  the  snow  where  it  was. 
The  hole  has  sharp  edges,  and  they  are  a  little  bit 
brownish. 

My  father  reaches  the  spoon  toward  my  mouth. 
The  wax  is  fine  and  brown,  but  clear,  too.  He  holds 
it  up  hTgh,  and  watches  me. 

My  mother  begins  to  laugh.  She  says :  "  See  how 
his  eyes  shine !  " 

My  father  says :     "  Open  your  mouth !  " 

I  open  it  wide,  and  he  puts  the  sugar  in.  I  bring 
my  teeth  together,  and  he  pulls  the  spoon  away. 
He  has  to  pull  hard,  and  I  almost  fall  over  toward 
him. 

The  sugar  is  fine  and  sweet,  and  so  sticky  that  at 
first  I  can  hardly  get  my  teeth  apart.  Then  it  gets 
soft  and  smooth. 

My  father  says :  "  It  '11  do  now,  sure  's  you  live ! 
Come  on,  le'  's  set  it  off." 

They  set  the  pan  down  on  the  papers  again.  My 
mother  gets  me  a  little  syrup  in  a  saucer,  and  says: 
"  You  can  be  eating  this  on  the  snow,  if  you  want  to, 
while  your  pa  is  waiting  for  it  to  cool." 

My  father  stirs  the  syrup  back  and  forth  in  the 
pan  with  a  long  spoon.  After  a  while  it  begins  to 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

be  not  quite  so  clear.  When  he  scrapes  along  the 
edges,  there  is  a  little  of  it  beginning  to  flake  and 
harden.  He  says :  "  I  don't  think  it  '11  be  long  now 
before  it  grains." 

My  mother  says :  "  Be  careful  and  don't  stir  it 
too  much !  You  know  you  don't  want  it  to  look  very 
white." 

She  says  to  me :  "  Now  we  '11  butter  the  tins  for 
him.  They  're  all  clean  and  ready." 

My  mother  brings  the  tins  from  the  buttery.  Tip 
calls  it  the  "  pantry."  I  always  make  fun  of  him. 
He  says  "  dining-room  "  for  kitchen,  too,  sometimes, 
just  like  the  folks  from  Town. 

The  tins  are  small,  and  fit  into  one  another,  so 
you  can  pick  up  a  whole  lot  of  them  at  once.  I  get 
them  apart.  My  mother  fixes  two  little  rags  with 
butter,  and  we  rub  the  insides  of  the  tins.  That  is 
so  the  sugar  will  come  out  easy  after  it  is  cool  and 
hard. 

Some  of  the  tins  are  shallow,  with  smooth  rims 
and  bottom,  and  some  are  a  little  deeper  and  crinkled 
all  around.  We  have  them  all  ready,  and  my  father 
pours  them  full  of  the  hot  sugar.  He  knows  how  to 
dip  so  the  long  spoon  will  just  fill  one  tin. 

The  sugar  begins  to  cool  and  harden  right  away, 
but  we  are  going  to  let  it  stand  till  to-morrow  morn 
ing.  Then  we  '11  take  the  tins  and  turn  them  bottom 
side  up  in  our  hands,  and  press  on  the  bottom  with 
our  thumbs.  That  will  make  the  sugar  drop  out  into 

132 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

our  fingers.  The  crinkled  tins  make  the  prettiest 
cakes. 

When  my  father  gets  to  the  bottom  of  the  pan,  it 
is  beginning  to  be  thick  and  grainy.  At  the  last, 
when  he  scrapes  the  sides  and  bottom  with  the  spoon, 
it  is  real  sugar. 

My  father  sets  one  of  the  crinkly  tins  off  to  one 
side.  He  says :  "  There !  That  one  '11  be  for  you. 
I  s'pose  you  '11  have  to  have  at  least  one,  won't  you?  " 

I  say:     "  Can  I  have  one  for  Tip,  too?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  I  s'pose  Tip  '11  have  to 
have  one." 

I  say :     "  He  likes  the  crinkly  ones,  too." 

My  father  sets  another  of  the  crinkly  ones  out. 

My  mother  says :  "  Of  course  Spot  '11  want  a 
couple,  you  know.  He  '11  want  to  treat  his  sweet 
heart." 

My  father  says :  "  Oh  pshaw !  "  But  he  sets  out 
two  more  tins. 

My  mother  says  to  me :  "  Ain't  it  about  your  bed 
time  now  ?  " 

I  can  smell  sugar  away  up  stairs,  after  I  am  in  bed. 


133 


XXIV 

My  Brother  Lets  the  Boys  and  Me  Go  to  the 
Arch  with  Him 

TIP  says:  "We'll  just  wait  out  here  till  you 
go  in  and  ast  if  he  '11  let  us." 

I  run  into  the  house.  I  slam  the  door,  and  say: 
"Where's  Ted?" 

My  mother  is  in  the  kitchen.  She  says :  "  I  guess 
maybe  you  '11  find  him  out  in  the  woodshed." 

I  open  the  kitchen  door  and  go  out  into  the  wood 
shed.  My  brother  is  cleaning  the  shotgun.  He  has 
been  gathering  sap  to-day,  and  he  always  takes  the 
gun  with  him.  Sometimes  he  gets  a  squirrel. 

I  say :  "  Can  Tip  and  Bill  and  me  and  Georgie 
come  out  and  boil  down  with  you  to-night  ?  " 

My  brother  wraps  some  cloth  around  the  end  of 
the  ramrod,  and  pours  some  oil  on  it.  Then  he  runs 
it  into  one  of  the  barrels  of  the  gun,  and  works  it 
up  and  down.  He  does  n't  say  anything. 

After  a  while  I  say :     "  Can  we?  " 

My  brother  changes  the  cloth,  and  runs  the  ramrod 
into  the  other  barrel. 

I  say  again:     "  Can  we?     Huh?  " 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  brother  keeps  on  running  the  ramrod  in  and 
out.  I  begin  to  feel  a  little  bit  out  of  patience.  I 
say  again:  "Can  we?  Huh?  Can  we?" 

I  stand  and  wait  a  while  longer.  Then  I  say: 
"  Come  on!  Why  can't  you  answer  a  feller?  Huh? 
Can  we?  Huh?" 

My  brother  does  n't  stop.  He  just  says:  "  Tell 
'em  they  got  to  bring  some  eggs  if  they  come." 

I  run  out  and  tell  them.  Bill  says :  "  I  'm  goin' 
to  bring  some  potatoes,  too." 

Tip  says :  "  Me  too !  I  'm  goin'  to  bring  some 
salt.  Eggs  am'  no  good  without  salt." 

I  say :  "  Be  sure  to  come  early,  right  after 
supper." 

At  supper  time,  my  father  comes  home  from  the 
sugar-bush.  When  we  are  through  eating,  he  says 
to  my  brother :  "  Better  go  over  to  the  arch  before 
long.  I  '11  do  the  chores  to-night.  'T  won't  do  to 
leave  the  pan  alone  too  long." 

We  get  ready  to  go.  My  father  says :  "  I  '11  be 
along  about  half  past  nine  or  ten,  in  time  for  you  to 
come  home  and  go  to  bed.  I  s'pose  there  '11  be  enough 
left  to  take  me  till  twelve  or  one  o'clock." 

It  is  dark  when  we  get  to  the  woods.  When  we 
get  in  among  the  big  trees,  we  can  see  a  little  spark  of 
light  on  the  hill  where  the  arch  is. 

My  brother  says :  "  That 's  funny.  I  guess  he 
did  n't  put  the  screen  up  very  tight." 

We  go  up  the  hill.     We  begin  to  see  the  steam. 
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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


The  light  is  from  a  little  place  under  the  pan,  where 
the  stones  don't  come  up  close. 

My  brother  lights  the  lantern  and  looks  at  the  sap 
in  the  pan.  He  gets  the  great  big  dipper,  and  pours 
some  in  out  of  the  kettle.  Then  he  takes  a  pail  and 
fills  the  kettle  from  the  barrel.  He  puts  in  some  more 
wood.  We  sit  down  in  front  of  the  fire. 

My  brother  says :  "  When  are 
they  coming?  Did  you  tell  'em 
about  the  eggs  ?  " 

I  say:  "Yah!  They'll  be  here 
before  long.  They  're  goin'  to  bring 
some  potatoes  and  salt,  too." 

We  sit  quite  a  while,  looking  at 
the  screen.  It  gets  red-hot  in  one 
place.  It  makes  me  feel  queer,  sit 
ting  there  in  the  dark,  without  any 
thing  but  sky  and  trees  all  around, 
and  without  any  noise  except  the  fire  snapping  and 
the  pan  boiling. 

Pretty  soon  we  hear  something  up  near  the  road. 
It  sounds  like  someone  stepping  on  the  crust  of  the 
snow. 

I  say :  "  I  bet  that 's  Tip  now  !  "  I  get  up  and 
yell :  "  Yah-'oo ! "  We  can't  hear  the  noise  any 
more. 

I    sit    down.     We    begin    to    hear    noises    again. 

My  brother  says :    "  They  're  sneakin'  up.    Pretty 

soon  they  '11  come  runnin'  in  and  try  to  scare  us." 

136 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Once  in  a  while  something  snaps,  and  then  it  is 
still.  We  know  it  is  one  of  them  stepping  on  a  dead 
limb. 

All  of  a  sudden  there  is  a  long  howl,  like  a  wolf  or 
something.  Then  there  is  another  one  farther  off. 
Then  it  is  all  still  again. 

I  get  up  and  yell :  "  Oh,  7  know  who  you  are ! 
You  need  n't  think  you  can  fool  me!  " 

They  howl  again.  I  go  out  that  way  a  few  steps. 
It  is  all  still.  I  come  back  again.  The  howls  and  the 
snappings  get  nearer.  They  are  right  around  the 
other  side  of  the  sap-house.  I  know  it  is  n't  wolves, 
but  I  am  glad  my  brother  is  here. 

At  last  Bill  and  Tip  and  Georgie  come  running  as 
fast  as  they  can,  yelling. 

I  say :     "  Aw,  I  knew  it  was  you  all  the  time." 

Bill  says :  "  Oh  yes,  but  you  was  scared  all  the 
same." 

I  say :     "  I  was  not ,  scared!  " 

Bill  says :  "  Well,  you  need  n't  to  go  an'  get  mad 
about  it,  if  you  was  n't." 

My  brother  says :     "  Did  you  bring  the  eggs  ?  " 

Tip  says :  "  Here  's  all  I  could  find  —  if  they 
ain't  smashed.  I  went  and  got  'em  out  of  the  chicken 
coop.  Auntie  '11  never  know  it." 

Bill  says :  "  Here  's  mine,  and  I  got  some  pota 
toes,  too."  He  says :  "  I  could  n't  get  any  out  of 
the  chicken  coop.  I  had  to  sneak  into  the  pantry  to 
get  mine." 

137 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Georgie  says :  "  Your  mother  would  n't  care, 
though.  You  got  such  a  lot  o'  chickens." 

We  put  the  potatoes  in  the  coals.  My  brother 
says  he  will  watch  them.  He  puts  the  eggs  in  the 
sap-house.  He  says :  "  We  '11  have  the  potatoes 
first." 


138 


XXV 

We  Bake  Potatoes  and  Boil  Eggs  at  the  Arch 

BILL  says :  "  Ask  your  brother  if  we  can  have 
a  drink  out  o'  the  pan." 

I  say :     "  Aw,  you  ask  him  yourself." 

My  brother  hears  us.  He  says :  "  Yes,  go  ahead 
and  drink  some,  if  you  want  to." 

We  have  a  drink,  and  then  begin  to  play  hide- 
and-seek. 

I  don't  like  to  be  it.  I  have  to  hunt  the  boys  too 
far  away  from  the  sap-house.  It  is  dark  out  there, 
and  the  stumps  look  like  bears.  The  boys  keep  so 
still  it  makes  me  nervous. 

After  a  while  we  play  Indian.  There  are  echoes 
when  we  yell.  We  tomahawk  and  scalp  each  other. 
We  get  some  coals  and  make  a  little  fire  with  twigs, 
and  have  a  war  dance  around  it. 

Georgie  says :  "  Hoi'  on,  that  makes  me  think ! 
Bill  said  he  was  goin'  to  make  a  hot  coal  crack  like 
a  cannon.  Come  on,  le'  's  see  him  do  it  now." 

Bill  says :  "  All  right,  come  on !  I  s'pose  you 
think  I  can't." 

Bill  gets  the  hammer.  He  goes  over  to  the  screen 
and  pokes  out  a  big  red  coal.  There  is  an  old  rail- 

139 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

road  iron  that  is  a  part  of  the  arch  right  over  where 
the  screen  goes.  Bill  gets  two  sticks,  and  lifts  the 
coal  up  onto  the  iron.  He  leans  over  the  coal,  and 
spits  on  it.  He  says :  "  Now  look  out ! "  He 
brings  the  hammer  down  on  the  coal.  It  does  n't 
crack  at  all. 

Georgie  says :  "  That 's  a  great  noise  like  a  can 
non,  that  is  !  If  I  could  n't  do  a  better  trick  'n  that, 
I  'd  go  an'  sell  out.  I  knew  you  could  n't  do  it !  " 

Bill  says :  "  Just  you  wait  a  minute.  That 
was  n't  no  good  coal." 

Bill  tries  it  again,  but  it  does  n't  make  any  bigger 
noise  the  second  time.  Georgie  says :  "  Pf-f-f-f !  " 

Bill  says :  "  Well,  that  iron  's  a  hot  iron.  I  told 
you  it  took  a  cold  one.  If  I  had  a  cold  iron,  you  'd 
see !  " 

We  laugh  at  Bill.  My  brother  laughs,  too.  He 
sits  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  with  his  legs  crossed  and 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Once  in  a  while  he  gets  up 
to  skim,  or  to  pour  sap  from  the  kettle  into  the  pan. 

We  play  train.  I  take  che  lantern  and  sit  on  a 
pail  inside  the  sap-house  door.  The  sap-house  is  the 
caboose.  Tip  is  the  engineer.  He  shakes  some  pails 
to  make  the  engine  go.  Bill  is  hind  brakeman,  and 
Georgie  is  middle  brakeman. 

When  we  get  to  a  station,  I  take  the  lantern  and 
jump  off  and  go  into  the  telegraph  office  to  register. 
Then  I  come  out  and  swing  the  lantern  for  them  to 
go  ahead,  and  jump  on  when  the  caboose  comes  along. 

140 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Tip  puts  on  lots  of  steam.     By  the  time  I  get  on,  it 
is  going  awfully  fast.     I  almost  get  slung. 

My  brother  calls  out :  "  The  potatoes  are  done ! 
Come  on  now  with  your  eggs !  " 

He  puts  the  eggs  in  the  dipper,  and  sets  it  down 
in  the  big  pan.  The  steam  is  pouring  out  as  thick 
as  can  be. 

My  brother  says :  "  If  we  'd  put  'em  in  without 
the  dipper,  maybe  we  'd  never  find  'em  again.  It 
boils  so  hard  they  'd  roll  all  over  everywhere,  and 
maybe  get  busted." 

The  potatoes  are  burned  black  on  the  outside. 
We  break  them  open.  They  are  n't  done.  The  in 
side  is  hard,  and  terribly  hot,  and  steams.  We  let 
them  cool,  and  eat  them  with  salt.  They  taste  of  the 
burned  part. 

Georgie  says :  "  I  don't  mind  a  little  burned  taste. 
I  wisht  they  was  a  little  doner,  though." 

Tip  says :  "  Oh,  you  don't  want  to  mind  a  little 
thing  like  that !  You  eat  turnips  and  carrots  raw. 
Why  can't  you  eat  potatoes  the  same?  " 

After  the  potatoes,  my  brother  sits  a  while  looking 
at  the  fire.  He  does  n't  say  anything.  We  stand 
around  with  our  hands  in  our  pockets.  We  are  all 
thinking  about  the  eggs. 

I  begin  to  think  of  saying  something  about  the 
eggs.  Just  then  my  brother  takes  his  hands  out  of 
his  pockets  and  uncrosses  his  legs.  He  says :  "  All 
right,  le'  's  have  the  eggs !  " 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

The  eggs  are  brown  and  sticky.  Some  of  the  shells 
are  cracked.  We  peel  them,  and  eat  them  with  the 
salt.  They  are  hard  as  can  be.  The  yolks  taste  the 
best  of  all.  The  whites  of  the  ones  that  are  cracked 
taste  sweet  on  the  outside.  We  have  two  apiece, 
but  my  brother  has  three,  and  he  says  he  wishes  we 
had  more. 

We  have  another  big  drink  out  of  the  pan.  We 
cool  it  in  the  snow  first.  It  is  sweeter  than  ever. 

Bill  says :     "  I  bet  you  I  '11  drink  till  I  bust !  " 

We  go  and  stand  by  my  brother.  All  of  a  sudden 
he  says :  "  Look  a'  here !  I  tell  you  what  you  do. 
You  go  up  to  the  henhouse  and  see  if  you  can  find 
some  more  eggs." 

I  say :     "  Oh,  that 's  an  awful  long  ways." 

Bill  says :  "  Aw,  come  on !  'T  won't  take  long. 
We  '11  be  right  back." 

My  brother  says :     "  Get  two  apiece  if  you  can." 

When  we  get  to  the  barn,  we  don't  talk  so  loud. 
We  keep  looking  over  toward  the  house.  I  can  see 
my  father  through  the  window.  He  is  sitting  by  the 
stove,  with  the  stand  and  light,  reading.  My  mother 
is  sitting  near  him.  I  suppose  she  is  doing  some 
crochet  work. 

Bill  says  :  "  Would  your  pa  care?  What  'd  you 
do  if  he  come  out  and  caught  us  here?  " 

I  say :  "  Oh,  Tie  would  n't  care !  But  I  don't  want 
to  go  in  and  ask,  that 's  all." 

The  hencoop  is  as  dark  as  can  be.  I  go  along  and 
142 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

feel  in  the  nests  until  I  have  eight.  That 's  all  I  can 
find.  The  roosters  cackle  a  little  when  I  come  along. 
They  are  surprised  to  have  anyone  come  in  when  it 
is  so  dark. 

One  of  my  eggs  is  all  I  want.  I  give  my  brother 
the  other  one.  That  makes  six  in  all  for  him.  The 
other  boys  eat  theirs,  and  then  we  all  drink  some 
more. 

Bill  lifts  up  his  vest  and  rubs  his  stomach.  He 
says  to  Tip:  "Feel  o'  that,  will  you?  Four  eggs, 
two  potatoes,  an'  a  gallon  o'  seerup." 

Bill  always  says  "  seerup  "  for  syrup.  He  says : 
"  I  could  n't  drink  any  more  an'  if  you  'd  point  a  gun 
at  me ! " 

Georgie  gives  him  a  poke  in  the  stomach,  and  he 
jumps  and  doubles  over. 

Pretty  soon  my  brother  says :     "  Listen  !  " 

We  all  keep  still.  We  hear  a  limb  snap  away  down 
toward  where  the  road  comes  from  the  house.  Be 
fore  long  we  begin  to  hear  a  crunching  sound  once  in 
a  while. 

My  brother  says :     "  I  s'pose  that 's  pa  coming." 

We  stand  there  a  while  without  saying  anything. 
Then  Bill  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  be  goin'. 
My  mother  told  me  not  to  stay  so  very  late." 

Tip  says :  "  All  right,  I  guess  I  '11  go  along  as 
far  as  the  road."  They  start  off. 

Georgie  starts,  too.  He  says  to  me:  "Well,  so 
long!" 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  comes  up  the  hill.  Pretty  soon  we  begin 
to  see  him.  He  comes  walking  out  of  the  dark.  We 
can  see  his  grey  whiskers  and  his  felt  hat.  Then  we 
can  see  his  old  coat.  It  is  blue,  and  fuzzy,  with  bands 
of  black  and  a  fuzzy  belt.  My  mother  makes  fun  of 
it,  but  my  father  says  he  does  n't  care,  it 's  warm 
and  comfortable. 


144 


XXVI 

I  Spend  an  Evening  at  the  Arch  with  My  Father 

MY    father    says:     "That's    so,    'tis    Friday 
night.     I    declare,    here 's    another    week    o' 
school  gone !  " 

He  says :  "  No,  I  don't  see  why  you  should  n't  go 
along,  if  your  ma  '11  let  you." 

My  mother  says :  "  Hi,  do  you  really  think  he 
ought  to  go  with  you  ?  It  '11  be  awfully  late  when 
you  get  home." 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  I  don't  expect  it  '11  be  so 
very  late.  Anyway,  it  won't  hurt  him  to  be  up  one 
night.  Let  the  boy  go  if  he  wants  to  !  " 

I  say :  "  To-morrow  's  Saturday,  anyway,  and  I 
don't  have  to  get  up  to  go  to  school." 

My  mother  does  n't  say  anything.  My  father 
says :  "  Well,  come  on,  then !  It 's  pretty  near 
eight  o'clock.  Le'  's  get  started.  He  '11  think  we  're 
never  comin'." 

My  brother  is  all  ready  to  go  when  we  get  to  the 
arch.  He  says :  "  I  just  skimmed  and  filled  in  from 
the  kettle,  and  fired  up.  It  won't  need  anything  now 
for  quite  a  while.  It 's  all  out  o'  the  barrel." 

145 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :  "  All  right !  I  s'pose  you  can 
go  then." 

My  brother  starts  down  the  path  toward  home. 
When  he  gets  just  past  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  though, 
I  can  see  him  turn  off  to  one  side.  I  can  hear  him 
going  through  the  trees  toward  Edie's  house.  Every 
little  while  we  hear  him  step  on  a  dead  limb. 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  there  he  goes  again !  I 
declare,  I  should  think  the  widow  would  get  sick  of 
him!" 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  she  is,  'cord 
ing  to  what  they  say  she  says.  She  acts  as  if  she  was 
'fraid  they  'd  want  to  get  married." 

I  say:     "  But  they  won't,  will  they?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Humph !  Well,  I  guess 
not!  " 

We  sit  down  in  front  of  the  fire.  We  have  the  old 
buffalo  robe  on  the  seat.  The  warm  from  the  sheet 
iron  screen  feels  good.  Once  in  a  while  I  turn  side 
ways,  to  let  my  back  get  a  little  of  it.  I  stick  my  feet 
up  near  the  screen.  They  begin  to  steam.  My  boots 
and  stockings  are  always  soaked  through  by  night. 

We  don't  say  a  great  deal.  My  father  is  n't  much 
of  a  talker,  except  when  he  gets  a-going  on  religion 
or  temperance.  He  likes  to  read.  He  has  some 
books  the  ministers  don't  like.  One  of  them  is  Pre- 
Adamite  Man.  He  takes  The  Truth  Seeker.  Once 
Grandpa  Tyler  borrowed  F 're- Adamite  Man,  and  said 
he  liked  it. 

146 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

The  steam  rolls  out  of  the  pan  a  little  to  one  side, 
and  then  goes  up  almost  straight.  It  does  n't  look 
so  white  in  the  dark  as  it  does  in  the  daytime.  The 
smoke  from  the  chimney  makes  a  sort  of  shadow  up 
above,  or  something  that  makes  me  think  of  one.  I 
can't  see  the  tree  branches  and  the  sky  so  plainly 
where  it  goes  up.  The  sap-house  is  black.  We  can 
see  only  part  of  it,  on  account  of  the  steam. 

The  fire  snaps,  and  the  sap  in  the  pan  makes  a 
simmering  noise  that  keeps  getting  louder  and  louder. 
When  my  brother  put  all  the  wood  in  before  we  came, 
it  stopped  boiling,  and  now  it  is  getting  ready  to 
begin  again. 

Pretty  soon  we  can  hear  it  begin  to  boil  and  bub 
ble  harder.  I  like  the  sound.  There  is  n't  any  other 
noise,  except  when  a  rig  goes  along  the  road,  or 
Howe's  old  Don  barks  at  something.  Sleighing  is 
all  gone  now. 

It  is  as  still  as  can  be  behind  us,  and  above,  and  all 
around.  The  sky  is  clear  and  blue,  and  there  are  lots 
of  stars.  The  branches  of  the  trees  show  against  it. 
They  look  black.  I  look  straight  up  over  my  head. 
There  are  only  the  ends  of  a  few  branches  there.  The 
sky  looks  ever  so  dark  blue  up  there,  and  the  stars  are 
ever  so  bright.  There  are  a  few  big  ones,  and  all  the 
little  ones,  and  the  Milky  Way. 

I  say :     "  Pa,  how  many  stars  are  there?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  don't  ask  me!  I  don't 
s'pose  anyone  's  ever  counted  'em  all." 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

After  a  little  while  he  says :  "  And  then,  as  soon 
as  you  look  through  the  telescope,  they  say  a  lot  more 
come  into  sight.  I  don'  s'pose  there  's  any  end  to 
'em." 

I  sit  and  think  about  the  stars.  I  look  up  there, 
and  wonder  how  the  earth  can  be  rolling  and  going 
so  fast  and  we  not  notice. 

But  mostly  we  look  at  the  screen.  It  is  an  old 
one.  It  has  been  there  ever  since  the  arch  was  built. 
The  edges  are  thin  and  cracked,  and  let  out  some  of 
the  light  from  the  fire. 

There  are  some  holes  here  and  there  in  the  middle, 
too.  They  make  bright  gold  spots.  One  or  two  are 
so  big  that  we  can  see  the  blaze  behind.  When  the 
fire  gets  to  going  hard,  part  of  the  screen  gets  red- 
hot. 

We  talk  a  little  while  about  school.  We  talk  about 
Nicholas  Nickleby  after  that.  My  father  brought  it 
from  Town  last  time.  He  says :  "  I  wish  we  could 
afford  more  books.  But  it  takes  money." 

I  say :  "  Maybe  we  '11  have  more  after  we  get  that 
part  of  the  old  back  lot  cleared  up." 

My  father  says :  "  Maybe  we  will.  It  ought  to 
make  good  wheat  ground.  But  it  '11  take  a  lot  o' 
work.  And  I  ain't  as  spry  as  I  used  to  be." 

I  sit  and  look  at  the  holes  in  the  screen.  Pretty 
soon  my  father  says :  "  I  hope  you  won't  have  to 
drudge  the  way  I  've  had  to.  I  've  had  to  do  a  lot 
of  hard  work  in  my  day,  and  sometimes  when  I 

148 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


was  n't  really  equal  to  it."  He  says :  "  I  want  you 
to  be  a  lawyer.  I  might  have  been  a  lawyer  if  I  'd 
only  had  an  education.  But  I  never  got  much 
schoolin',  except  what  I  give  myself  when  I  was 
clerkin'  for  Haney  in  Batavia.  I  used  to  sit  up  after 
the  day's  work  was  done." 

After  a  while  we  talk  about  Aunt  Caty  and  Uncle 
Danel,  and  Uncle  Abe,  and  early  times.  Aunt  Caty 
is  my  father's  sister.  She  and  Uncle  Danel  live  nine 
miles  away,  in  the  town  of  New  Harlem.  They  and 
my  father  and  Uncle  Abe  all  came  from  York  State 

149 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

forty  years  ago.  Aunt  Caty  has  a  lot  of  sons  and 
daughters.  They  are  my  cousins,  but  they  are  so 
old  that  it  seems  as  if  they  must  be  my  uncles  and 
aunts  instead.  Uncle  Abe  is  dead. 

My  father  says :  "  When  Abe  and  I  kept  bache 
lor's  hall  over  in  New  Harlem,  I  always  used  to  do  the 
cookin'.  I  always  went  home  first  and  got  dinner. 
I  could  tell  from  the  way  I  felt  just  how  much  Abe 
could  eat.  If  I  wanted  about  three  potatoes,  I  knew 
he  'd  want  about  five.  If  I  felt  like  one  big  piece  o' 
pork,  I  knew  he  'd  want  two  medium-sized  ones. 
That 's  the  way  it  was  with  everything." 

I  say :     "  What  did  Uncle  Abe  die  of  ?  " 

My  father  says :     "  He  got  pneumonia." 

I  say :  "  That 's  something  about  lungs,  ain't 
it?" 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  pneumonia  means  inflam 
mation  of  the  lungs."  He  laughs.  He  says :  "  In 
formation  of  the  lungs,  as  old  Cap  Swann  calls  it. 
It  5s  like  a  good  hard  cold,  only  a  lot  worse." 

We  sit  and  look  at  the  holes  a  long  time. 

I  say :  "  Are  we  going  over  to  Aunt  Caty's  again 
before  long?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  I  spect  we  '11  go  over  one 
o'  these  days,  after  sugar  time  is  over."  He  says : 
"  But  the  roads  ain't  always  good  in  spring,  and  it 's 
quite  a  ways.  It 's  better  goin'  in  the  fall." 


150 


XXVII 

We  Boil  Down,  and  Take  the  Syrup  Home 

MY  father  sits  up  straight.     He  says :     "  Well, 
I  guess  we  better  fire  up.     First  thing  we 
know,  we  '11  be  losin'  time." 

He  gets  up  and  picks  up  the  big  wooden  poker.     It 
is   all   black   at   one   end.     He   says :     "  Look   out, 


now! 


I  » 


I  get  up  and  stand  at  one  side,  by  the  end  of  the 
seat.  My  father  tips  the  screen  back,  and  it  falls 
down.  It  makes  a  great  light,  and  at  first  I  have  to 
look  the  other  way.  There  is  a  great  high  bed  of 
coals  inside.  In  some  places  I  can  see  the  shape  of 
the  sticks  before  they  were  burned.  They  have  dark 
lines  across  them.  That  is  where  they  are  going  to 
fall  apart.  The  coals  are  bright  yellow,  and  almost 
white  in  some  places,  and  in  some  places  almost  red. 
There  is  blaze,  too,  but  not  much.  The  blaze  is  blue 
in  some  places,  and  yellow  in  others. 

It  is  so  hot  I  have  to  get  farther  away.  My  father 
goes  up  quickly  and  stirs  the  coals  all  together,  so 
they  are  even.  Some  of  them  look  black  where  they 
are  broken,  and  have  red  rims.  My  father  throws  a 

151 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

few  of  the  long  basswood  sticks  in.  It  is  n't  so  hot 
after  that.  He  packs  the  fireplace  full. 

We  sit  down  again.  My  father  leaves  the  screen 
where  it  is.  He  says :  "  Let  it  have  a  good  draft 
first,  and  then  we  '11  shut  it  up  again." 

The  sap  in  the  pan  has  stopped  boiling.  My 
father  says :  "  Now  '11  be  a  good  time  to  skim." 
There  is  steam,  but  he  can  see  where  the  scum  is.  He 
holds  the  lantern  up  over  the  edge.  The  sap  looks 
black,  and  there  are  two  islands  of  scum  on  it.  My 
father  skims  them  off,  and  throws  the  scum  on  the 
ground.  It  is  n't  like  the  scum  when  we  sugar  off. 
There  are  little  pieces  of  bark  and  things  in  it,  even 
if  they  do  have  mosquito  netting  over  the  barrels 
when  they  pour  in. 

My  father  says :  "  Beats  all  how  little  pieces  of 
things  '11  get  in !  Of  course  it  ain't  real  dirt,  but 
then  we  don't  want  it  in,  even  if  it  ain't." 

He  fills  in  from  the  kettle.  Once  more,  and  there 
won't  be  any  left  in  the  kettle.  The  barrels  were 
empty  before  we  came. 

We  begin  to  hear  the  wood  snap  and  crackle. 
There  is  a  big  light  on  the  seat  and  trees  in  front  of 
the  fireplace.  Sometimes  it  lights  up  the  trees  away 
down  the  hill. 

We  sit  down  again.  The  blaze  is  so  bright  we  can 
hardly  look  at  it.  It  makes  our  faces  hot.  Once  in 
a  while  a  stick  pops  like  everything,  and  there  is  a 
"  s-s-s-s-ss !  "  My  father  says  it  is  because  some  of 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

the    wood    is  n't    seasoned.     There    is    moisture    in 
it. 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  Well,  it 's  goin'  hard  enough 
now  to  shut  up  the  draft."  He  leans  over  a  little, 
and  lifts  the  screen  up  with  the  poker. 

We  sit  and  look  at  the  holes  in  the  screen  again. 
They  are  ever  so  yellow  and  bright.  They  get  red 
der.  The  screen  gets  red-hat.  The  sap  in  the  pan 
boils  harder  than  ever,  and  the  steam  rolls  away  from 
the  edge  of  the  pan  as  thick  as  can  be. 

I  say:     "Won't  it  boil  over?  " 

My  father  says :  "  No,  't  ain't  likely.  It  never 
boils  over  unless  it 's  thick,  like  syrup." 

We  sit  a  long  time  without  talking  much.  I  get 
up  and  go  after  the  lantern,  and  stand  at  the  edge  of 
the  pan.  The  steam  goes  rolling  out  and  up.  It 
makes  me  think  of  the  big  white  clouds  in  summer.  I 
hold  my  hand  in  it.  The  steam  is  nice  and  warm.  I 
take  my  hand  out.  It  is  wet,  and  soon  feels  cool. 

I  go  around  to  the  other  side,  and  s,tand  in  the 
middle  of  the  steam.  It  warms  and  moistens  my  face. 
It  smells  warm,  and  like  sap  that  is  brown.  When  I 
come  out,  my  face  is  moist  and  cool. 

I  sit  down  again.  We  don't  talk  at  all  now.  My 
father  is  leaning  on  one  elbow,  looking  at  the  holes. 
I  look  at  him  once  in  a  while,  and  then  I  look  at  the 
holes,  too. 

My  father's  shoulders  are  stooped  a  little.  I  feel 
as  if  I  'd  like  to  do  something  for  him.  I  like  him 

153 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

better  than  anyone,  except  maybe  my  mother.  I  am 
afraid  he  does  n't  feel  happy. 

After  a  long  time,  I  begin  to  wonder  whether  I 
won't  get  sleepy.  Just  then  my  father  gets  up.  He 
holds  the  lantern  over  the  edge  of  the  pan  and  looks 
in.  He  says :  "  'T  ain't  goin'  to  be  so  very  long 
now." 

I  get  up  and  look.  Where  it  boils,  we  can  see  that 
it  is  quite  brown.  My  father  pours  a  little  out  of 
the  dipper.  It  looks  almost  black,  but  that  is  on 
account  of  its  being  so  dark  everywhere. 

By  and  by  my  father  goes  and  tips  the  screen  back. 
The  wood  is  all  turned  to  coals.  They  have  white 
ashes  on  them  where  they  are  near  the  sides  of  the 
arch. 

My  father  begins  to  get  ready  to  take  the  pan  off. 
He  lays  two  boards  from  the  arch  over  onto  a  long 
saw-horse  that  always  stands  there.  They  are  quite 
a  long  way  apart,  and  at  one  end  they  are  on  the 
stones  right  next  to  the  side  of  the  pan. 

My  father  says :  "  Now  it 's  all  ready  to  take  off. 
S'pose  you  can  help  me  a  little?  " 

We  slide  the  big  pan  off  the  fire  onto  the  boards. 
The  inside  of  the  arch  glows.  We  can  feel  the  heat. 
As  soon  as  the  pan  is  off,  it  almost  stops  steaming. 

My  father  says :  "  All  right  now,  bring  me  the 
pails  and  the  dipper." 

He  dips  the  syrup  out.  It  makes  a  different  sound 
from  water  or  sap  when  he  lets  it  fall  into  the  big  tin 

154 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

pails.  It  sounds  thick  and  hot,  and  does  n't  spatter, 
like  water  or  sap. 

When  the  syrup  is  nearly  all  out,  there  is  a  place 
in  the  middle  that  is  lower  than  the  rest.  The  dipper 
makes  a  scraping  sound  when  my  father  scoops  there. 

There  is  just  a  little  that  my  father  can't  get.  I 
am  glad  of  it.  Tip  and  I  always  like  to  come  next 
day  and  get  it.  By  that  time  it  is  thick,  and  we  just 
kink  our  fingers,  and  scrape  it  up.  It  tastes  best  of 
all  that  way. 

My  father  puts  the  yoke  on  his  shoulders  and 
catches  the  pail  handles  with  the  hooks.  He  says : 
"  Now  for  home  and  bed !  " 

I  take  the  lantern  and  go  ahead,  to  show  the  way. 
We  go  through  the  big  trees  and  out  across  the  ten- 
acre  lot,  and  are  soon  home.  The  old  leach  looks 
white.  It  makes  me  think  of  ghosts.  The  house  and 
barn  are  all  dark,  and  every  thing  is  as  still  as  can  be. 

My  father  sets  the  pails  down  in  the  kitchen,  and 
puts  a  couple  of  newspapers  over  them.  We  go  into 
the  sitting  room.  He  pokes  the  fire  and  puts  in  a 
couple  of  chunks,  and  fixes  the  damper  and  the  draft. 

I  sit  down  behind  the  stove  and  get  my  boots  off. 
I  sit  right  on  the  floor,  and  start  them  by  pushing 
with  one  foot  on  top  of  the  other.  They  always  stick 
at  the  heels  and  ankles,  because  my  feet  are  always 
wet. 

The  clock  begins  to  strike  twelve.  I  set  my  boots 
up  straight  behind  the  stove,  and  lay  my  stockings 

155 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

on  the  tops.     They  will  be  dry  by  morning,  but  the 
boots  will  be  awfully  stiff. 

I  kiss  my  father  good  night,  and  run  up  stairs. 
When  I  am  in  bed,  I  keep  thinking  of  the  steam,  and 


the  holes  in  the  screen,  and  my  father  in  the  seat  in 
front  leaning  on  his  elbow,  and  the  woods  without 
leaves,  and  all  the  stars  up  above  the  trees.  I  can 
smell  the  syrup  in  the  pails  down  stairs  just  a  little 
bit. 

I  get  warmer  and  warmer  in  bed.  It  is  nice  and 
comfortable.  I  go  to  sleep  thinking  of  the  steam  and 
the  simmering,  and  the  noise  the  sap  makes  when  it 
boils,  and  the  bright  holes  in  the  screen. 


156 


XXVIII 

/  Hunt  for  Mayflowers,  and  See  My  Brother 
and  Edie 

MAPLE  sugar  time  is  all  over.  It  does  n't 
freeze  now  at  night,  and  it  is  too  warm  in  the 
daytime.  There  are  beginning  to  be  little  red  buds 
on  the  maple  branches.  The  snow  has  been  gone 
quite  a  while.  There  is  n't  any  even  in  the  corner  by 
the  tree  behind  the  sap-house.  The  leaves  on  the 
ground  are  dry  and  loose.  If  anyone  is  walking  in 
them,  you  can  hear  it  a  long  way  off. 

Nearly  all  the  pails  and  spiles  are  in  the  sap-house. 
There  are  just  a  few  left.  They  are  turned  bottom 
side  up.  You  can  see  them  a  long  way  off,  because 
they  are  different  colors.  My  father  left  them  be 
cause  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  work  on  the  land. 

My  brother  is  cultivating  now,  in  the  lot  next  to 
the  sugar-bush,  between  it  and  the  bush.  He  is 
using  the  old  cultivator,  the  one  with  the  handles. 
It  is  n't  one  of  the  kind  you  can  ride  on. 

Uncle  Anthony  does  his  cultivating  with  the  seeder. 
He  does  n't  ride,  though.  He  says  it  is  hard  enough 
on  the  horses  as  it  is. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  am  looking  for  Mayflowers.  I  always  like  to 
surprise  my  mother  with  the  first  ones.  She  says  she 
supposes  we  ought  to  call  them  hepaticas.  In  a 
great  many  places  I  can  see  the  leaves  that  belong 
to  them,  and  when  I  pull  the  dry  tree  leaves  and  twigs 
away  I  can  see  the  flower  buds.  I  have  n't  found  any 
flowers  yet,  though.  The  buds  are  pinkish,  and 
woolly.  The  ground  smells  like  dirt  and  dead  wood 
when  I  uncover  it. 

I  walk  along  slowly,  looking  all  the  time.  I  look 
at  the  ground  on  the  south  sides  of  the  trees,  because 
it  is  sunnier  on  that  side.  The  air  is  warm.  The 
warmth  comes  up  to  my  face  from  the  leaves.  It 
smells  sweet,  as  if  there  were  flowers  somewhere,  but 
I  can't  find  any. 

I  run  across  a  pail  that  has  n't  been  turned  bottom 
side  up.  It  is  nearly  full  of  sap  and  water.  I  can 
tell  by  the  white  on  the  pail  inside  that  the  sap  is 
spoiled.  I  can  smell  it,  too.  It  is  sour. 

There  are  honey  bees  buzzing  around  the  pail. 
They  always  like  sap.  They  are  from  Howe's,  I 
suppose. 

One  of  the  bees  comes  down  fast  and  strikes  the 
inside  of  the  pail,  and  falls  in.  I  watch  him,  and 
hope  he  will  get  out  all  right.  He  floats,  and  kicks, 
but  stays  right  there. 

I  am  sorry  for  the  bee.  I  don't  stop  to  think, 
but  put  my  finger  under  him  and  lift  him  out.  I  feel 
a  terrible  sting.  I  jump,  and  snap  my  finger.  I 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

don't  know  what  becomes  of  the  bee.  I  dance  around, 
holding  on  to  my  finger  with  my  other  hand,  and  put 
ting  it  in  my  mouth,  and  snapping  it.  I  say : 
"  Durn  you !  That 's  the  last  time  I  '11  ever  help  a 
bee!" 

My  finger  swells  a  little.  I  make  some  mud  and 
put  it  on.  In  a  few  minutes  it  feels  better.  I  turn 
the  pail  bottom  up,  and  go  on  toward  the  edge  of  the 
woods. 

I  keep  on  looking  for  Mayflowers.  All  the  time,  I 
hear  my  brother  cultivating.  He  says :  "  Gee !  "  and 
"  Haw !  "  and  "  Giddap !  "  a  great  deal. 

By  and  by  I  hear  someone  walking  in  the  leaves  up 
toward  Edie's  house.  My  brother  is  at  that  end  of 
the  field  now,  close  to  the  woods.  I  don't  hear  him 
cultivating.  Pretty  soon  I  hear  him  walking  in  the 
leaves.  Then  I  hear  someone  laugh. 

I  know  from  the  laugh  that  it  is  Edie.  Besides,  I 
can  see  them.  They  are  looking  for  Mayflowers,  too. 
Every  little  while  they  stop,  and  stand  there  together. 
Edie  has  her  white  apron  and  blue  dress  on.  She  is 
bareheaded. 

I  make  up  my  mind  there  are  n't  any  Mayflowers  in 
the  woods  yet.  I  think  of  the  brush,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  field.  The  brush  slopes  south,  and  they  ought 
to  blossom  earlier  there. 

I  start  for  the  field.  When  I  get  almost  to  the 
horses,  my  brother  and  Edie  stop  talking  and  laugh 
ing.  Then  I  hear  someone  on  the  other  side  of  them 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

walking  through  the  leaves  quite  fast.  At  first  I 
thought  they  stopped  because  they  did  n't  want  me 
to  hear. 

I  look  as  hard  as  I  can  through  all  the  trees.  I 
see  Edie's  mother  coming  up  to  them.  My  brother 
and  Edie  stand  looking  at  her,  as  if  they  did  n't  know 


what  to  do.  She  has  a  brown  sunbonnet  on.  It 
makes  her  look  as  if  she  had  no  neck. 

Edie's  mother  stands  right  near  them.  She  talks 
quite  a  long  time.  I  can  hear  her,  but  I  can't  tell 
what  she  says.  I  know  when  it  is  "  No  "  or  "  Yes  " 
or  "  What?  "  but  that  is  all.  I  wish  I  knew  what  she 
was  saying. 

By  and  by  Edie  and  her  mother  start  home.  My 
brother  stands  there  a  little  while.  When  Edie's 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

mother  is  almost  at  the  fence  they  have  to  climb  over, 
she  turns  around  and  begins  to  talk  again.  She  talks 
louder  this  time.  I  hear  her  say :  "  Now,  mind !  I 
tell  you  it 's  got  to  be  stopped !  You  are  both  of  you 
too  young  to  be  going  on  in  this  way." 

My  brother  stands  between  the  cultivator  handles 
quite  a  while,  leaning  on  them  with  his  hands.  He 
has  the  lines  around  his  shoulders.  He  is  looking 
at  the  big  clevis  down  near  the  old  mares'  heels. 

I  look  at  the  clevis,  too.  There  is  n't  anything  the 
matter  with  the  clevis.  Then  I  look  at  my  brother. 
Then  I  look  at  the  clevis  again.  My  brother  is  n't 
looking  at  the  clevis,  after  all.  He  is  just  thinking. 

I  say :     "  What 's  the  matter  ?     Huh  ?  " 

My  brother  does  n't  answer  me.  The  old  mares 
stand  with  their  heads  hanging  down  and  their  eyes 
half  shut. 

I  sit  down  on  the  cultivator.  By  and  by  I  ask 
again:  "What  was  the  matter  with  her?  Huh?" 

My  brother  keeps  on  standing  there,  looking  at  the 
clevis. 

I  say:     "Hu-u-uh?" 

My  brother  stands  up  straight,  and  pulls  on  the 
lines.  The  old  mares  wake  up.  He  says :  "  Oh,  you 
go  along !  You  would  n't  know  if  I  told  you.  Gid- 
dap  !  "  He  won't  tell  me  anything. 

I  go  up  into  the  brush.  After  a  long  time,  just 
when  I  am  not  thinking  anything  about  them,  all  at 
once  I  see  some  Mayflowers.  I  jump  toward  them 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

and  sit  down  on  my  toes,  and  pick  them.  There  are 
five  or  six.  They  are  dark  blue  inside,  and  light  blue 
outside,  with  tiny  pointed  green  leaves  around  the 
cup.  Inside  are  little  yellow  things,  like  grains  of 
corn  meal  on  stems.  I  keep  thinking  how  surprised 
my  mother  will  be,  and  how  she  will  like  the  flowers. 

I  hold  the  flowers  in  a  tight  little  bunch.  I  keep 
smelling  of  them  as  I  go  on  looking  for  more.  Pretty 
soon  I  find  another  cluster,  and  then  some  more  right 
where  the  road  turns  out  toward  the  house.  Some  are 
pink,  and  some  white.  When  they  are  all  together 
they  are  as  pretty  as  can  be.  They  have  the  nicest 
smell  I  know. 

When  I  go  into  the  house  I  hold  the  Mayflowers 
behind  my  back.  My  mother  is  writing  at  the  secre 
tary  desk.  She  is  writing  her  diary  for  yesterday, 
the  way  she  does  every  day. 

I  walk  up  behind  her.  All  of  a  sudden  I  hold  the 
Mayflowers  right  under  her  nose.  She  jumps,  and 
jerks  her  head  back  to  see  what  it  is.  She  says: 
"  O-o-oh,  Mayflowers  !  "  She  takes  them,  and  begins 
to  smell  of  them.  She  says :  "  M-m-m-m !  Oh, 
ain't  they  just  the  nicest  little  flowers  you  ever  saw? 
I  'm  always  so  glad  when  they  come  again !  " 

When  my  mother  smells  of  the  flowers,  she  draws 
long  breaths,  so  that  I  can  hear.  She  knows  I  like 
it  when  she  makes  a  fuss  over  the  first  flowers. 

I  stand  and  look  at  my  mother  and  the  flowers. 
She  says :  "  What  '11  we  get  to  put  them  in?  " 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

She  thinks  a  while.  She  says :  "  /  '11  tell  you 
what  '11  be  nice.  We  '11  put  'em  in  one  of  the  little 
white  saucers.  I  like  'em  better  spread  out  that  way. 
Don't  you?" 

I  run  out  and  bring  a  saucer.  My  mother  fixes 
the  Mayflowers  in  it.  Then  she  goes  out  to  the 
kitchen  and  pumps  a  little  fresh  rain  water  in.  She 
sets  the  saucer  on  the  table  in  the  front  room.  Every 
time  we  come  in  we  can  smell  Mayflowers. 


XXIX 

I  Help  My  Mother  Clean  up  the  Front  Yard 

MY  mother  says :     "  I  want  you  to  help  me  rake 
the    front    yard,    Bug.     We  '11    begin    right 
away,  and  then  we  can  get  done  by  bed  time.     Run 
out  and  get  the  garden  rakes  !  " 

We  begin  at  the  house,  and  rake  toward  the  road. 
There  is  a  lot  of  long,  dead  grass.  The  rake  sticks 
in  the  grass,  and  sticks  in  the  ground.  I  have  to  pull 
a  great  deal. 

Under  the  hickory  there  is  a  lot  of  shucks  and 
leaves.  Under  the  evergreens  there  are  needles,  and 
dry  leaves  are  scattered  almost  everywhere.  The 
flower  beds  are  covered  with  leaves  and  dead  stalks. 

We  get  so  much  dead  stuff  together  that  it  is  hard 
to  rake  it  along.  My  mother  says :  "  When  we 
get  quite  a  lot  of  it  together,  we  '11  leave  a  little  pile. 
We  can  get  it  with  the  wheelbarrow  afterward." 

It  is  quite  a  long  time  before  we  get  over  the  whole 
yard.  When  we  are  through,  my  mother  says : 
"  Well,  I  s'pose  I  '11  have  to  get  some  supper  for  the 
men  folks.  But  they  ain't  a-going  to  get  much  to 
night,  I  can  tell  'em !  " 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

She  says :  "  While  I  'm  getting  supper  on,  you 
can  wheel  the  piles  of  stuff  out  to  the  side  of  the  road. 
Make  a  nice  big  pile,  and  after  dark  we  '11  have  a 
bonfire." 

My  mother  comes  to  the  front  door  and  calls  me 
when  supper  is  ready.  She  comes  out  and  stands  on 
the  veranda.  She  says :  "  Don't  it  look  just  too 
spick  and  span  for  anything?  I  feel  like  staying  out 
here  all  the  time  and  enjoying  it." 

We  go  in  to  supper.  My  mother  says  to  my 
brother :  "  After  you  're  through  supper  will  you 
come  out  and  spade  up  my  flower  beds  for  me?  You 
can  do  it  so  much  quicker.  And  we  want  to  be  get 
ting  some  barnyard  dirt  while  you  're  doing  that." 

My  brother  keeps  on  eating.     He  does  n't  look  up. 

My  mother  says :     "  'T  won't  take  but  a  minute." 

My  brother  eats  some  more.  He  says :  "  Oh,  I 
s'pose  I  '11  have  to." 

After  supper  I  bring  the  wheelbarrow  around. 
My  mother  puts  the  two  hoes  into  it,  and  we  go  down 
to  the  barnyard. 

My  mother  says :  "  Now  we  must  get  some  that 's 
nice  and  black  and  crumbly." 

I  begin  to  hoe.  My  mother  says :  "  No,  that 
won't  do !  That 's  too  coarse  and  full  of  manure. 
We  want  nice,  rich,  clean  dirt." 

I  have  to  try  a  good  many  places  before  my  mother 
is  satisfied.  Then  we  scrape  together  quite  a  heap. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  guess  you  need  n't  go  after 
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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

the  shovel.  We  '11  just  lift  it  in  with  the  hoes. 
'T  won't  take  long." 

Pretty  soon  she  says :  "  There,  I  should  n't  won 
der  if  that  was  all  you  can  wheel.  Try  it,  and  see." 

It  is  all  I  can  do  to  get  up  the  slope  through  the 
gate  with  it.  We  go  around  in  front  of  the  house. 
We  spread  some  of  the  dirt  on  the  verbena  bed,  and 
some  on  the  portulaca  bed.  We  get  the  rest  and 
put  it  on  the  petunia  bed. 

When  we  are  through,  my  mother  says :  "  Now 
sha'n't  we  go  out  to  the  brush  and  get  a  load  of  black 
dirt?  It's  just  what  my  geraniums  need.  It's  so 
nice,  from  around  the  roots  under  the  leaves." 

The  brush  is  just  beginning  to  get  green.  In  a 
few  weeks  there  will  be  so  many  leaves  and  flowers  that 
you  can  hardly  see  anything.  The  ground  will  be 
covered  with  lilies  and  j  ack-in-the-pulpits  and  man 
drakes  and  ferns.  I  know  just  how  it  will  feel  in 
there,  all  warm  and  moist.  The  leaves  and  twigs 
won't  crackle  when  you  walk. 

We  scrape  up  a  load,  and  go  back.  My  mother 
goes  in  at  the  back  door.  She  comes  out  onto  the 
veranda  by  the  time  I  get  around  in  front.  She  has 
her  arms  full  of  geraniums.  She  raised  some  of  them 
from  slips,  on  the  kitchen  window  sill.  She  has  a 
trowel  and  a  case  knife. 

My  brother  has  all  the  spading  done.  We  stop  by 
the  geranium  bed.  The  dirt  smells  moist.  My 
mother  says  it  has  a  spring  smell.  I  see  some  angle- 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

worms  in  it,  and  it  makes  me  want  to  go  fishing. 

My  mother  digs  a  hole  with  the  trowel,  and  puts  in 
a  trowelful  of  the  dirt  from  the  brush.  She  takes 
the  case  knife  and  runs  it  around  the  inside  of  the 
pot.  That  gets  the  geranium  out  with  all  its  dirt. 
She  sets  it  down  in  the  hole,  and  puts  some  more  of 
the  dirt  from  the  wheelbarrow  around  it.  Then  she 
packs  in  the  dirt  from  the  flower  bed. 

When  we  get  done,  there  are  geraniums  all  over 
the  bed  except  on  the  outside.  My  mother  says: 
"  I  'm  going  to  have  foliage  plants  for  a  border.  I  '11 
get  'em  next  time  I  go  to  Town." 

There  is  a  little  of  the  black  dirt  left.  We  put 
some  on  the  bleeding  heart  bed,  and  some  on  the  piny 
bed.  The  folks  from  Town  call  it  "peony."  The 
bleeding  hearts  are  three  or  four  inches  high  already. 
They  have  light  green  leaves,  and  pink  stems. 

It  is  almost  dark.  We  light  the  leaves  and  grass 
in  the  pile.  They  make  a  lot  of  thick  smoke.  The 
pile  gets  afire  all  over  the  outside,  but  does  n't  burn 
up  high.  We  keep  stirring  it  with  the  rakes.  Our 
hands  smell  smoky. 

My  mother  says :  "  If  we  could  have  a  smudge 
like  this  in  mosquito  time,  I  guess  they  would  n't 
bother  us  very  much." 

The  pile  is  all  burned  down  at  last.  We  go  up  the 
walk  to  the  house.  We  sit  down  on  the  veranda. 

My  mother  says :  "  There,  we  got  ahead  of  your 
pa  for  once!  He  ain't  got  his  raspberries  trimmed 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

yet.  I  don't  know  what  '11  happen  to  him  next  — 
he  's  so  particular  about  having  everything  done  up 
to  the  handle." 

By  and  by  we  hear  my  father  come  into  the  house. 
He  comes  to  the  front  door,  and  sees  us. 


My  mother  says :  "  Come  out  and  sit  down  a 
while,  and  see  how  spick  and  span  the  front  yard  is. 
We  beat  you  this  time." 

My  father  says :  "  It  does  look  fine,  and  no  mis 
take  about  it."  He  comes  and  sits  down  near  me. 
He  leans  over,  and  lets  his  hands  hang  down  between 
his  knees.  He  does  n't  say  much.  He  looks  tired, 
and  it  makes  me  feel  sorry  for  him. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

By  and  by  my  mother  says :  "  Well,  you  better 
take  care  of  the  tools  now.  It 's  about  time  to  go 
to  bed." 

I  put  the  rakes  and  hoes  into  the  wheelbarrow,  and 
start  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  My  mother 
says :  "  Don't  forget  to  give  your  feet  a  good  wash- 
ing!" 

I  draw  up  a  bucket  of  water  and  pour  it  out. 
There  is  a  spout,  with  a  pail  under  it.  I  put  in  one 
foot  at  a  time.  The  water  is  cold.  When  I  start 
for  the  woodshed  door,  the  planks  feel  nice  and  warm. 


169 


XXX 

My  Father  Sows  Wheat,  and  We  Attend  to  the 
Berry  Patches 

MY  brother  has  just  begun  to  drag.  They  al 
ways  drag  before  sowing  wheat.  He  has  been 
up  and  down  once  or  twice  already. 

My  father  is  getting  ready  to  sow.  He  has  two 
or  three  bags  of  wheat  at  the  end  of  the  field.  He 
takes  wheat  out  of  them  and  puts  it  into  the  bag  he 
sows  from.  He  holds  the  bag  so  that  the  wheat  is 
under  his  left  arm.  He  holds  the  mouth  of  it  open 
with  his  left  hand,  and  takes  the  wheat  out  and  sows 
it  with  his  right  hand.  He  has  a  stake  standing  at 
the  other  end  of  the  field,  to  sight  by.  Every  time 
his  left  foot  comes  down,  his  hand  goes  into  the  bag, 
and  every  time  his  right  foot  comes  down,  he  sows. 
It  makes  a  swishing  sound. 

My  father  makes  me  think  of  the  picture  in  one  of 
the  books  I  used  to  read  in.  That  was  on  my  moth 
er's  knee,  before  I  went  to  school.  It  began  like 
this :  "  It  is  spring.  Now  the  farmer  sows  his 
seed." 

When  my  father  gets  to  the  stake  he  pulls  it  up  and 
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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

sticks  it  into  the  ground  where  he  can  sight  from  it 
next  time.  He  has  a  stake  at  the  other  end,  too.  He 
always  paces  off  the  distance  to  where  he  wants  to  set 
it. 

There  are  a  good  many  robins  hopping  about. 
They  are  eating  wheat  and  worms.  One  of  them  gets 
hold  of  a  big,  long  worm,  and  has  a  hard  time  swal 
lowing  it. 

I  say :  "  The  robins  '11  eat  so  much  there  won't  be 
any  wheat  come  up." 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  they  won't  get  a  great 
deal.  Pretty  soon  the  drag  '11  cover  it  up,  so  they  '11 
have  to  scratch  lively  to  find  any  at  all." 

My  brother  gets  through  dragging  for  my  father 
to  sow.  Now  he  has  to  begin  all  over  again  and  drag 
after  him.  Then  he  will  have  to  cross-drag  it. 
After  that,  he  '11  run  the  smoother  over  it.  Most 
people  have  a  roller. 

The  smoother  is  made  of  planks  bolted  together. 
They  are  fixed  so  they  slant,  and  crush  the  lumps 
better.  Sometimes  we  call  it  the  crusher  instead  of 
the  smoother.  When  my  brother  runs  it,  he  puts  a 
nail  keg  or  a  chair  on  it,  and  sits  down.  I  always 
jump  on  and  off  while  he  is  going. 

My  father  finishes  the  sowing.  He  says :  "  Now 
I  guess  I  '11  go  up  to  the  house  and  'tend  to  the  rest 
of  the  berry  patch." 

He  says  to  me :  "I  guess  you  better  come  with  me, 
and  finish  uncovering  the  strawberries.  You  could 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

do  that,  could  n't  you  ?  Then  they  '11  be  all  ready 
for  the  next  warm  rain." 

We  walk  across  the  ten-acre  lot  toward  the  house. 
The  ten-acre  lot  is  seeded  down  to  clover,  and  the 
clover  is  coming  up  fine  and  green  this  year.  Our 
feet  brush  in  it. 

My  father  puts  on  his  buckskin  mittens,  and  takes 
his  clippers.  The  clippers  have  a  spring,  so  they 
open  themselves  every  time  he  clips  a  shoot.  He 
goes  along  the  raspberry  rows  and  cuts  out  all  the 
dead  stalks.  He  clips  off  the  ends  of  the  others. 
The  leaves  are  half  out.  They  are  bright  green,  and 
crinkly. 

I  get  the  wooden  rake  and  begin  to  pull  the  straw 
off  the  strawberry  vines.  They  are  next  to  the  rasp 
berry  patch.  I  rake  it  off  into  the  place  between 
the  rows.  When  we  pick,  there  will  be  nice  clean 
straw  to  kneel  on.  The  chaff  gets  in  among  the  vines, 
too,  and  keeps  the  berries  from  getting  dirty.  The 
rows  look  brown  and  black  now,  but  the  green  leaves 
are  coming. 

When  I  get  through  with  the  strawberries,  my 
father  is  just  through  with  the  raspberries.  I  go 
over  to  where  he  is. 

He  says :  "  There  are  a  good  many  tips  that 
caught  this  year.  There  '11  be  plenty  of  sets.  See 
'em?" 

I  can  see  the  sets.  The  branches  of  the  bushes 
grow  long  in  summer,  and  lots  of  them  have  their  ends 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

reach  down  and  begin  to  grow  in  the  ground.  All 
you  do  is  cut  the  branch  down  low,  and  take  it  up  with 
the  trowel  where  it  went  into  the  ground,  and  set  it 
out.  They  catch  better  if  the  ground  is  cultivated, 
or  if  you  bury  the  tips. 

My  father  says :  "  You  might  run  to  the  barn 
now  and  get  me  the  four-tined  fork." 

He  goes  along  and  gets  all  the  dry  stalks  and  tips 
into  forkfuls,  and  makes  a  heap.  I  go  in  and  get  a 
newspaper  and  some  matches.  I  put  the  paper  into 
one  side  of  the  pile,  and  get  ready  to  strike  a  match. 

My  father  calls :  "  Not  on  that  side !  I  thought 
you  knew  better  than  that.  On  the  side  the  wind 
comes  from." 

The  briars  make  a  big  fire  and  a  lot  of  smoke. 
They  crackle  and  hiss  like  everything.  When  the 
fire  gets  to  going  hard,  you  can  see  the  pile  sink,  it 
burns  so  fast. 

There  is  hardly  anything  left  when  the  fire  is  out. 
I  rake  through  the  ashes,  and  there  is  only  the  least 
little  bit  of  red. 

My  father  says :  "  There,  don't  the  patch  look 
nice  and  neat  and  clean  ?  And  you  've  fixed  up  the 
strawberry  patch  first  class,  too." 

We  stand  and  look.  By  and  by  he  says :  "  Some 
folks  don't  take  good  care  of  their  berries.  But  I 
like  to  see  'em  well  'tended  to.  And  then,  besides, 
you  don't  get  more  'n  half  a  crop  if  you  neglect  'em." 


173 


XXXI 

We  Pick  up  Stone,  and  I  Go  with  My  Brother 
After  Redhorse 

TO-DAY  I  have  to  help  pick  up  stone.  It  is 
getting  so  I  have  to  do  things  almost  every 
Saturday.  Tip  and  I  don't  like  it. 

My  father  says  to  my  brother :  "  If  you  want  to 
go  after  redhorse  to-day,  you  '11  have  to  flax  around. 
We  've  got  to  finish  that  lot  before  I  can  let  you  go." 

The  plum  trees  are  in  blossom.  That  is  always  the 
sign  that  redhorse  are  running.  My  brother  always 
gets  excited  about  them. 

We  go  out  to  the  barn  and  hitch  up.  I  attend  to 
some  of  the  tugs.  We  take  the  wagon  with  the 
dumpboards. 

We  go  through  the  brush  to  the  big  lot  that  slopes 
north.  The  river  and  the  railroad  tracks  are  in 
sight  down  there.  We  can  see  the  banks  reflected  in 
the  water. 

We  begin  as  soon  as  we  get  through  the  brush. 
My  father  and  I  pick  up  on  one  side,  and  my  brother 
on  the  other  side.  We  get  four  or  five  stones  in  our 
hands  and  on  our  arm,  and  then  throw  them  on  the 

174 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


dumpboards.     Once   in   a   while   my   brother   drives 
along  a  little  farther. 

I  don't  like  picking  up  stone.  The  ground  is  so 
lumpy  it  is  hard  walking,  and  the  stones  are  dirty 
and  heavy. 

My  brother  does  n't  like  it  any  better  than  I  do. 
He  is  always  grumbling  about  it.  He  says: 
"What's  the  use,  anyway?  There'll  be  just  as 
many  next  time.  Look  at  'em  now,  after  all  we 
picked  up  last  year !  " 

My  father  says :  "  Yes, 
I  know,  but 't  would  n't  do 
to  leave  'em  all  for  the  ma 
chine  to  go  over  when 
we  're  harvestin'.  We  got 
to  get  the  biggest  ones  off, 
anyway  —  the  ones  that 


T  -•• 


., 

^""  sire   high   enough   for   the 

sickle  to  strike.  I  don't  s'pose  Uncle  Anthony  'd  cut 
for  us  at  all  if  we  did  n't  clear  away  the  stone  a  lit 
tle." 

Uncle  Anthony  cut  our  wheat  and  oats  last  year 
175 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

and  the  year  before.  My  father  says  he  does  n't 
suppose  he  '11  ever  get  a  reaper  as  long  as  Uncle 
Anthony  is  willing  to  do  it  for  us.  Cradling  is  too 
hard  for  him. 

My  brother  says :  "  I  s'pose  the  darn  things  keep 
coming  up  from  down  in  under.  Every  time  we  plow 
it  seems  as  if  there  were  more  than  ever.  Or  else 
they  grow,  like  potatoes  !  " 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  You  'd  think  to  look  at  the 
ground  where  we  been  that  it  was  clean.  But  you 
just  wait  till  it  rains!  You'll  see  'em  by  the  hun- 
derd  again !  " 

My  father  says :  "  You  know  what  Uncle  An 
thony  says  about  the  stones." 

I  say:     "No.     What?" 

My  father  says :  "  That  the  devil  was  comin' 
across  the  country  around  here  with  his  apron  full 
o'  stones,  and  the  string  broke." 

My  brother  says :  "  Well,  I  wisht  it  had  n't, 
that 's  all  /  got  to  say !  " 

When  we  get  to  the  other  end  of  the  lot,  we  throw 
the  stones  over  the  fence  into  the  back  lot.  If  we 
have  a  load  before  we  get  there,  we  throw  them  onto 
one  of  the  stone  piles.  There  are  woodchucks  in  all 
the  stone  piles.  A  good  many  briars  grow  there. 

The  river  is  in  plain  sight  from  the  fence.  My 
brother  and  I  stand  and  look  at  it.  The  willows  are 
getting  green.  We  see  somebody  walking  along  the 
bank.  Somebody  else  is  standing  still  in  one  place. 

176 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

He  has  a  spear  in  his  hand,  all  ready  to  throw  when 
he  sees  a  redhorse. 

My  brother  says :  "  He  's  standing  by  the  rif 
fles."  That 's  a  stony  place  where  the  redhorse 
come. 

We  get  the  stones  done  just  in  time  for  dinner. 
After  dinner,  my  brother  gets  the  spear.  We  go 
through  the  brush  and  across  the  lot  where  we  picked 
up  stone,  and  down  through  the  back  lot. 

When  we  get  across  Newbecker's  marsh  to  the 
railroad  track,  my  brother  says :  "  Now  you  stay 
back  and  keep  still  a  minute.  Maybe  there  '11  be  one 
under  the  bridge." 

He  stoops  down  as  far  as  he  can,  and  crosses  the 
track  without  making  a  noise.  He  creeps  over  to 
one  side  of  the  bridge  and  looks  down  into  the  water. 
Then  he  goes  over  to  the  other  side.  One  of  the 
planks  is  up,  and  next  he  looks  down  through  there. 
He  motions  that  I  can  come. 

This  is  n't  a  railroad  bridge.  It  is  only  the  plank 
bridge  Newbecker  draws  his  marsh  hay  across. 

My  brother  lies  down  flat  on  his  stomach,  with 
his  head  over  the  side.  He  holds  the  spear  so  that 
it  points  straight  down.  The  prongs  are  right  near 
the  water.  I  lie  down  near  him  just  the  same  way. 
I  want  to  see  him  get  one. 

We  lie  there  a  long  time.  I  don't  dare  move,  I  am 
so  afraid  my  brother  will  scold. 

The  water  runs  fast,  and  makes  ripples.  It  is  so 
177 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

clear  you  can  see  everything.     There  are  stones  in 
the  bottom,  and  a  log  bedded  away  down  in  them. 

I  begin  to  think  we  are  n't  going  to  get  one,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  my  brother's  spear  goes  down  with 
a  splash.  It  strikes  the  log  hard.  At  the  same 
time  I  see  something  streak  through  the  water  up 
stream.  I  know  it  was  a  redhorse. 

My  brother  holds  the  spear  still  with  both  hands. 
We  look  down  at  the  bottom.  There  is  something 
reddish  wiggling  there. 

My  brother  waits  a  while.  He  says :  "  Out  o' 
the  way,  now !  " 

He  works  the  spear  a  little  to  get  it  out  of  the  log. 
He  begins  to  lift  it  carefully,  but  only  a  little. 
Then  he  brings  it  up  sideways  in  a  hurry,  out  onto 
the  bridge.  There  is  a  redhorse  flopping  on  it. 

The  redhorse's  back  is  reddish  dark  grey,  and  his 
belly  yellowish  white,  and  he  has  red  fins.  There  is 
blood  on  him.  The  fins  and  the  blood  are  so  red 
that  it  makes  him  seem  red  all  over.  He  has  a  round 
mouth,  with  thick  lips,  like  a  sucker. 

My  brother  puts  his  foot  on  the  redhorse  and 
pulls  the  spear  out.  There  is  more  blood  comes  out. 
The  redhorse  does  n't  flop  now. 

My  brother  says :  "  Ain't  he  a  fine  one  ?  There 
was  five  or  six  of  'em  come  sailing  along  right  aside 
of  one  another,  and  this  was  the  biggest  of  all  of  'em. 
He  happened  to  come  right  under  the  spear,  and  I 
let  drive  just  in  time." 

178 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  say :  "  I  could  see  one  of  'em  scoot  away.  He 
went  like  a  streak  o'  lightning." 

My  brother  says :  "  Well,  le'  's  lay  down  again, 
and  see  if  we  can't  get  another  one." 

We  lie  there  a  long  time,  but  we  don't  see  any 
more.  We  go  up  the  track  to  the  red  bridge,  and 
lie  down  and  watch  there. 

My  brother  says :  "  No  use  waitin'  here !  I 
don't  believe  any  '11  come  along.  We  '11  go  down  to 
the  riffles." 

We  stand  by  the  riffles  so  long  that  I  get  tired  and 
want  to  go.  My  brother  says :  "  All  right,  le'  's 
go !  We  need  n't  feel  so  bad  if  we  don't  get  any 
more.  This  is  a  mighty  fine  redhorse." 

He  carries  the  fish  with  his  fingers  caught  under 
the  gills.  Its  tail  brushes  the  ground. 


170 


XXXII 

My  Brother  and  Edie  Are  Missing 

MY  eyes  open.  I  hear  my  mother  calling  my 
brother.  She  says :  "  Come,  old  sleepyhead ! 
Your  pa  's  called  you  twice  already,  and  you  '11  get  a 
scolding.  You  know  he  's  in  a  dreadful  hurry  about 
his  corn." 

My  brother  does  n't  answer.  I  lie  a  while,  ex 
pecting  to  hear  his  bed-cords  creak.  I  go  to  sleep 
again. 

I  wake  up  again.  My  father  is  calling  up  the 
stairs.  He  says :  "  Come !  Come !  Come !  How 
long  'fore  you  're  goin'  to  help  me  with  this  milkin'? 
We  want  to  get  at  that  corn !  " 

My  father  starts  away  from  the  door.  I  hear  him 
say :  "  Confound  that  boy,  anyway  !  I  wish  I  knew 
some  way  to  hurry  him." 

After  a  while  I  get  up.  I  go  out  into  the  barn 
yard.  My  father  is  milking  the  old  red  cow.  I 
stand  watching.  The  pail  has  deep  foam  in  it.  I 
like  the  sound  of  the  milk. 

There  is  Mayweed  all  around.  The  dew  is  on  it 
yet.  The  mosquitoes  keep  lighting  on  my  father's 
shoulders.  He  tries  to  rub  them  off  with  his  cheek. 

180 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

The  old  cow  switches  her  tail,  and  swings  her  head 
around. 

My  father  says :  "  I  guess  before  long  you  '11 
have  to  learn  to  milk.  Then  I  '11  know  what  to  de 
pend  on." 

I  stand  rubbing  my  leg  with  my  foot.  The  mos 
quito  bites  itch.  I  say :  "  When  I  learn,  I  got  to 
have  a  stool." 

My  father  does  n't  have  a  stool.  He  says  it 's  all 
nonsense.  He  just  sits  on  his  toes. 

I  hear  someone  coming  up  behind  us  in  the  May 
weed.  I  look  around.  My  father  looks  around, 
too.  It  is  Edie's  mother. 

We  begin  to  wonder.  Edie's  mother  comes  up 
slowly.  She  holds  her  skirts  up,  and  lifts  her  feet, 
on  account  of  the  dew.  She  looks  pale. 

We  wonder  more  than  ever.  Edie's  mother  says : 
"  Good  morning  to  you !  " 

My  father  says :  "  Good  morning,"  too.  He  looks 
as  if  he  did  n't  know  what  to  make  of  it. 

When  Edie's  mother  gets  a  little  nearer,  the  old 
red  cow  walks  off. 

Edie's  mother  says :  "  There,  I  've  scared  your 
cow,  but  I  — 

My  father  says:  "  Never  mind,  I  was  just  about 
done,  anyway.  I  was  only  goin'  to  give  her  a  couple 
o'  strips  more." 

He  keeps  on  sitting  there,  looking  at  her.  He  has 
the  pail  between  his  knees. 

181 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Edie's  mother  says :  "  I  've  come  down  to  see 
whether  your  son  is  at  home  this  morning  or  not." 

My  father  looks  surprised.  He  says :  "  Why, 
yes,  I  s'pose  so !  But  he  ain't  up  yet.  I  tried  two 
or  three  times  to  rouse  him,  but  't  wa'n't  no  use. 
He  's  an  awful  sleeper  in  the  morning !  " 

Then  he  says:     "Why?" 

Edie's  mother  says :  "  Are  you  quite  sure  he  's 
there?  Did  he  answer  when  you  called  him?  Be 
cause  my  Edie  is  gone.  Her  bed  is  made  the  same 
as  when  she  went  up  stairs  last  night,  and  I  can't 
think  of  anyone  would  know  where  she  is  except  your 
son." 

She  begins  to  cry.  My  father  jumps  up.  He 
says :  "  Well,  well,  well !  We  '11  have  to  see  about 
this."  I  begin  to  feel  scared. 

My  father  says  to  me :  "  You  might  run  ahead 
and  see  if  your  ma  can't  find  him." 

I  run  to  the  house  as  fast  as  I  can.  I  am  all  out 
of  breath  by  the  time  I  get  to  the  kitchen. 

My  mother  is  just  stirring  the  potatoes  in  the 
spider.  I  say :  "  Ma,  Edie  run  away  and  her 
mother  says  she  thinks  Ted  is  gone  with  her!  Is  he 
up  yet?" 

My  mother  drops  the  knife.  She  says:  "Well, 
I  declare !  "  She  stands  there  with  her  hands  hang 
ing. 

She  says :  "  Run  up  stairs,  quick !  and  see  if  he  's 
there!" 

182 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  open  the  stair  door  and  run  up.  I  stop  at  my 
brother's  door  and  listen.  I  say :  "  Ted !  "  I  lis 
ten  again.  Then  I  say  it  again. 

My  brother  does  n't  answer.  I  push  the  door 
open  and  go  in.  The  bed  is  all  made.  The  curtains 
are  up,  and  it  is  all  light. 

I  run  down  stairs.  My  father  and  Edie's  mother 
are  just  coming  in. 

I  say :     "  He  ain't  there !     The  bed  's  all  made !  " 

Edie's  mother  sits  down  and  begins  to  cry.  She 
says :  "  I  knew  that  was  how  it  would  be." 

My  father  and  mother  don't  say  anything.  They 
look  at  the  floor.  My  father  bites  his  nails. 

Edie's  mother  stops  crying  a  little.  She  says: 
"  Oh,  why  couldn't  you  have  kept  him  from  doing 
it?  "  Then  she  begins  to  cry  again. 

My  father  says :  "  Why,  we  never  had  the  least 
idea  it  would  come  to  anything  like  this.  I  could  n't 
be  more  surprised  if  I  was  to  be  shot ! " 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  anyway,  crying  won't 
do  any  good.  They  're  gone,  and  we  '11  have  to  make 
the  best  of  it." 

Edie's  mother  stops  crying.  She  says :  "  Yes, 
it 's  all  well  enough  for  you  to  talk  that  way,  but 
what  '11  I  do,  with  my  girl  gone  off  without  leaving  a 
word?  "  She  begins  to  cry  again. 

Pretty  soon  she  says :  "  Oh,  do  you  think  they 
could  have  gone  and  drowned  themselves  or  some 
thing?  You  know  Edie  took  on  dreadfully  about 

183 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

my  not  letting  her  go  with  him."     She  cries  worse 
than  ever. 

My  father  says :  "  Nonsense !  The  idea !  'T 
ain't  very  likely,  if  /  know  the  boy."  He  bites  his 
nails  a  while.  He  says :  "  Depend  on  it,  they  know 
what  they  're  doin'.  They  're  safe  and  sound  some 
where.  The  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  go  right  on 
with  our  work  till  they  let  us  know  where  they  are." 

My  mother  says:  "  Yes,  just  go  home  and  go  on 
as  usual.  It  won't  do  any  good  to  make  a  fuss  now." 

Edie's  mother  gets  up.  She  says :  "  Could  n't 
we  telegraph?  P'rhaps  they  've  gone  to  Richard's 
or  somewhere." 

Richard  is  Edie's  uncle.     He  lives  in  Town. 

My  father  says :  "  All  right,  we  '11  telegraph,  if 
it  '11  make  you  feel  better.  But  it 's  my  opinion  it  '11 
be  a  waste  of  money." 

Edie's  mother  goes  to  the  door.  She  says : 
"  You  '11  promise  me  faithfully  you  '11  let  me  know 
the  very  first  minute  you  hear  anything,  won't  you?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Of  course  we  will !  You  can 
rest  easy  about  that." 

Edie's  mother  goes  out.  My  mother  says: 
"That's  just  what  they've  done!  They've  gone 
and  got  married,  and  there  it  '11  be  —  an  end  of  his 
schooling,  and  everything !  " 

My  father  says :  "  Just  as  like  as  not !  But  you 
need  n't  be  afraid.  'T  won't  be  long  before  we  '11 
have  'em  back." 

184 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

He  says :  "  I  declare  I  don't  know  what  the 
boy  '11  do.  I  guess  he  '11  find  out  now  what  it  is  to 
work,  whether  he  feels  like  it  or  not."  He  goes  to 
the  sink,  and  starts  to  wash  his  hands.  He  says : 
"  But  I  don't  see  how  I  'm  goin'  to  get  all  this  work 
done  without  help." 

My  mother  begins  to  take  the  potato  up.  She 
says :  "  I  'm  just  disgusted,  I  don't  care !  If  she  'd 
'a'  let  'em  alone,  and  not  opposed  'em  all  the  time,  it 
would  have  been  all  right.  They  'd  have  gone  on  a 
while,  and  then  maybe  stopped  of  their  own  accord." 

She  sets  the  potato  on  the  table.  She  says: 
"  That 's  the  way  it  is  with  boys  and  girls.  The 
more  you  oppose  'em,  the  more  they  're  bound  to 
have  their  way." 

She  says  to  me :  "  Well,  Bug,  set  the  chairs 
around,  and  let 's  have  breakfast." 


186 


XXXIII 
I  Go  Fishing  with  Tip  and  Bill  and  Georgie 

BILL  said  for  us  to  come  down  and  go  fishing 
to-day.  It  is  Saturday. 

I  take  the  cows  up  the  road,  and  turn  them  into 
the  lane.  Old  Whitey  is  eating  at  the  side  of  the 
road  near  Edie's  mother's  house.  She  comes  down 
the  road  when  she  sees  us  coming,  and  goes  in  with 
the  rest.  She  is  their  cow. 

Every  time  I  take  the  cows  away  or  bring  them 
home,  I  think  of  my  brother  and  Edie.  When  I  go 
by  the  woods,  I  think  of  what  Edie's  mother  said 
about  their  drowning  themselves,  and  I  wonder 
whether  maybe  they  have  n't  killed  themselves  some 
other  way,  and  are  n't  in  there  somewhere,  dead,  and 
covered  up  with  leaves. 

We  don't  hear  anything  from  them.  Edie's 
mother  comes  down  every  day  to  ask.  Some  days 
she  comes  twice.  She  says  she  hopes  we  are  n't 
keeping  anything  from  her. 

My  father  and  mother  say :  "  No,  you  can  de 
pend  on  it,  as  soon  as  we  hear,  we  '11  let  you  know." 
Edie's  mother  nearly  always  cries,  and  she  nearly 

187 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

always  says  she  is  afraid  they  have  gone  and  drowned 
themselves. 

I  drive  the  cows  down  the  lane  into  the  woods.  I 
leave  them  there,  instead  of  taking  them  away  around 
to  the  back  lot.  My  father  lets  me  do  that  way  once 
in  a  while  when  I  am  in  a  hurry.  He  says  it  gives 
the  grass  in  the  back  lot  a  chance  to  catch  up. 

Near  the  spring,  I  cut  across  up  the  hill  to  the 
road.  I  keep  looking  for  a  nice  little  ironwood  for  a 
fishpole,  but  somehow  I  never  can  find  one  to  suit  me. 
At  last  I  get  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  by  the  road, 
and  take  an  ironwood  I  don't  like  at  all.  It  makes 
me  think  of  what  they  say  about  some  people  getting 
married.  They  say  they  are  hard  to  suit,  and  at 
last  take  anyone  they  can  get,  just  like  me  with  the 
fishpole. 

When  I  get  over  into  the  road,  I  look  up  to  see 
whether  Tip  is  coming.  I  yell.  Pretty  soon  I  yell 
again.  I  hear  Tip  answer.  He  is  taking  a  short 
cut  through  the  woods. 

We  go  down  the  road  together.  Bill  is  just  driv 
ing  his  cows  out  into  the  road.  He  has  to  watch 
them  along  the  road  every  night  and  Saturdays,  be 
cause  their  pasture  is  n't  big  enough. 

Bill  sees  us,  and  yells.  We  can  see  him  hold  up 
his  hand.  We  know  he  is  making  the  two-finger  sign. 
That  always  means :  "  Going  swimming?  " 

Tip  and  I  hold  ours  up,  too,  and  begin  to  run. 
The  dust  jumps  out  on  every  side  when  our  feet  come 

188 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

down.  It  feels  soft  and  warm,  but  once  in  a  while 
there  is  a  gravel  stone  in  it,  and  it  hurts. 

Bill  has  a  tin  pail.  He  says :  "  I  ast  my  mother 
for  some  bread  and  butter,  so  if  we  wanted  to  stay 
long."  He  says :  "  I  've  got  some  w'ite  bread, 
too." 

Bill  almost  always  has  rye  bread.  Bill  says  his 
mother  says  everybody  eats  rye  bread  in  the  old 
country. 

I  say :  "  Can't  you  get  some  onions  to  go  with 
it?" 

Bill  says:  "Onions?  O'  course!  Lots  of  'em 
right  over  here."  He  jumps  over  the  fence  and 
pulls  some. 

I  say :  "  Don't  throw  the  tops  away.  They  go 
fine  in  between  the  bread." 

Down  by  Newbecker's  we  meet  Syd  coming  up  from 
their  marsh  pasture  with  a  colt. 

Bill  says  to  Syd :  "  Goin'  to  hitch  up  and  take 
Frankie  for  a  ride?  "  Bill  goes  over  toward  the  side 
of  the  road  when  he  says  it. 

Syd  looks  at  him.  He  says :  "  Shut  up  your 
sassy  mouth !  If  I  did  n't  have  this  colt  I  'd  break 
your  neck  for  you.  Now,  you  know  it  ?  " 

Bill  gets  near  the  fence.  He  did  n't  think  Syd 
would  be  quite  so  mad.  He  says :  "  Aw,  don't  get 
so  mad  about  it !  7  did  n't  mean  nothin'." 

Syd  says :  "  Well,  you  want  to  be  careful  what 
you  say.  First  thing  you  know,  you  '11  get  hurt!  " 

189 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Syd  says  to  me :  "  Any  news  from  your  brother 
yet?" 

I  say :     "  No,  but  we  expect  a  letter  every  day." 

Syd  says :  "  Well,  it 's  pretty  near  time,  ain't  it? 
Le'  's  see,  it's  two  weeks  to-morrow  since  they 
skipped." 

The  colt  begins  to  prance  around.  Syd  jerks  on 
the  halter  and  says :  "  Ho-o-oa !  Stand  still,  can't 
you?" 

The  colt  looks  at  Bill  over  in  the  fence  corner. 
He  lifts  up  his  ears,  and  snorts. 

Syd  says :  "  They  say  Edie's  mother  is  worrying 
about  them  drownding  themselves." 

He  laughs.  He  says :  "  They  say  she  had  'em  go 
to  the  river  yesterday  and  rake  around  down  by  the 
road  bridge." 

He  laughs  again.  He  says :  "  Much  good  it  '11 
do  her.  He  knows  what  lie  's  doing,  all  right.  Your 
mother  '11  get  a  letter  from  'em  one  o'  these  fine  days, 
don't  you  worry !  " 

We  leave  the  cows  in  the  road  near  the  river.  We 
go  ahead,  and  throw  in  at  the  first  road  bridge. 
Then  we  try  the  second  road  bridge. 

Bill  says :  "  We  ain't  never  goin'  to  catch  any 
thing  here.  Come  on,  le'  's  go  over  to  Jones's 
bridge." 

Jones's  bridge  is  n't  over  a  road.  It  is  in  a  field. 
They  draw  hay  over  it  from  the  marsh.  There  is  a 
big  elm  tree  stands  over  it.  We  can  see  the  tree  from 

190 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

the  road  bridge.     They  are  doing  something  there. 

We  go  across  to  where  they  are.  They  are  wash 
ing  sheep. 

Tip  says :  "  Aw,  everythin5  's  all  riled  up !  We 
might  's  well  go  back  where  we  come  from." 

I  say :  "  Oh,  wait  a  while !  Le'  's  watch  'em 
wash." 

The  men  go  right  in  where  it  is  up  to  their  middle, 
clothes  and  all.  They  hold  the  sheep  by  the  wool, 
and  wash  them  while  they  lie  there  floating.  They 
are  getting  ready  for  shearing  time. 

By  and  by  we  start  back.  Tip  says :  "  If  we  'd 
come  back  here  afterwards  they  'd  bite  like  every 
thing.  They  always  bite  after  the  water 's  been 
stirred  up  that  way.  But  we  can't  wait,  can  we?  " 

Bill  says :     "  Naw,  we  got  to  get  some  fish." 

When  we  get  back  to  the  gravel  hole,  by  the  sec 
ond  road  bridge,  Bill  says :  "  Come  on,  le'  's  have  a 
swim,  and  then  le'  's  eat  our  bread  and  onions.  Then 
we  '11  try  our  luck." 

We  begin  to  undress.  All  we  have  to  do  is  let  our 
pants  down  and  step  out  of  them,  and  pull  our  shirts 
off  over  our  heads. 

When  we  are  just  beginning,  Bill  says: 

"  '  Mother,  may  I  go  out  to  swim? ' 
'Yes,  my  darling  daughter. 
Hang  your  clo'es  on  a  hickory  limb, 
But  don't  go  near  the  water ! '  " 

Tip  says :     "  I  'm  goin'  to  be  in  first !  " 
191 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Bill  and  I  say :     "  You  are,  are  you?  " 

We  all  hurry  as  fast  as  we  can.  I  let  my  pants 
drop,  and  jerk  off  my  shirt.  I  start  without  think 
ing  to  get  my  feet  out  of  my  pants.  One  foot 
catches,  and  I  go  down  flat  on  the  ground  with  a 
thump.  I  jump  up  as  quick  as  I  can.  We  all  three 
go  in  head  first  all  at  once. 

We  come  up,  and  swim  to  the  bank.  We  climb 
out,  and  then  dive  and  swim  again. 

Bill  says :     "  Watch  me !  " 

He  begins  to  rub  blue  clay  on  his  arms.  Tip  and 
I  begin  to  do  it,  too.  We  soap  ourselves  all  over 
with  blue  clay.  We  dig  into  the  bank  under  the 
water  to  get  it. 

We  swim,  and  dive  after  each  other's  legs,  and 
laugh  and  yell.  We  swim  and  dive  so  much,  and 
laugh  so  hard,  that  when  we  come  out  we  are  hungry 
enough  to  eat  anything. 

We  eat  up  all  the  lunch,  and  wish  we  had  a  lot 
more.  We  leave  the  lines  in  while  we  eat.  Bill  gets 
a  couple  of  little  bullheads.  He  puts  them  in  his 
pail,  in  some  water.  They  wiggle  around  with  their 
noses  against  the  pail  and  their  tails  going.  It 
makes  me  think  of  big  black  polliwogs. 


192 


XXXIV 

We  Have  a  Swim,  Catch  Fish,  and  Lose  Our 
Lines  on  the  Wires 

IT  is  warm.  All  of  a  sudden  we  notice  that  it  is 
darker.  Tip  looks  up,  and  says :  "  You  know 
what?  It's  goin'  to  rain.  Mighty  soon,  too!  I 
tell  you  what  le'  's  do.  Le'  's  go  over  to  the  old  elm 
tree.  They  bite  like  everything  there  when  it 's 
muggy  and  rains." 

The  old  elm  tree  is  only  over  the  other  side  of  the 
bridge,  where  the  marsh  begins.  We  grab  every 
thing,  and  run  across  the  bridge  and  through  the 
fence  to  where  it  is. 

I  climb  out  onto  an  alder  that  leans  over  the  water 
just  before  we  come  to  the  tree.  There  are  a  couple 
of  logs  in  the  water  under  the  alder,  and  lots  of  scum. 

I  drop  my  line  into  the  scum.  Pretty  soon  the 
cork  wiggles  a  little  bit.  I  think  of  a  bass.  Then  it 
goes  under,  but  not  very  fast.  I  pull.  I  can  tell  by 
the  feeling  that  it 's  a  bass.  Before  long  I  get  two 
more.  I  don't  get  any  more  bites.  I  begin  to  think 
I  have  that  hole  fished  out. 

It  begins  to  rain.  It  is  a  slow,  warm  rain,  and 
193 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

makes  us  feel  sweaty.     Tip   and  Bill  begin  to  get 
bites.     I  run  over  to  where  they  are. 

Tip  says :  "  Now  you  '11  begin  to  see  us  haul  'em 
out !  " 

We  don't  have  to  wait  long.  Tip  says :  "  See 
that?  Didn't  I  tell  you?"  His  cork  begins  to 
wiggle  and  swim. 

Bill  yells :     "  Pull !     Pull,  you  fool  you !  " 

Tip  jerks.  A  bullhead  flies  up  over  his  head.  It 
comes  off  the  hook,  and  lands  in  the  deep  grass. 

Tip  throws  his  pole  down  and  runs  after  the  bull 
head.  It  takes  him  quite  a  while  to  find  it. 

Bill  yells :  "  I  got  a  bite !  I  got  a  bite !  "  My 
cork  goes  down  at  the  same  time.  We  both  pull. 
They  are  both  bullheads.  We  run  to  take  them  off. 
Mine  comes  off  hard.  Bill  has  to  help  me.  He 
says :  "  You  must  n't  never  let  a  bullhead  have  it 
long.  He  's  sure  to  swalluh  the  hook." 

We  catch  them  almost  as  fast  as  we  can  throw  in. 
Bill  says :  "  This  is  the  best  luck  we  ever  had,  al 
most,  ain't  it  ?  " 

It  keeps  raining  a  little.  The  water  in  the  river  is 
all  dots  and  circles.  The  drops  jump  up,  and  look 
like  beads. 

At  last  we  have  so  many  that  we  get  tired  of  it. 
Tip  says :  "  Oh,  I  got  enough  o'  this.  Come  on, 
le"s  wind  up!  Will  you?" 

Tip  and  I  carry  our  bullheads  on  forked  willows. 
I  begin  to  dread  cleaning  them. 

194 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Bill  says :  "  I  tell  you.  Le'  's  start  the  cows  over 
towards  home,  and  then  le'  's  us  go  down  the  track 
to  the  red  bridge.  I  bet  the  scale  fish  '11  bite  there. 
I  'm  sick  of  catchin'  all  bullheads." 

Tip  and  I  say :     "  All  right !  "     We  start  off. 

We  try  it  at  the  red  bridge.  We  don't  catch  any 
thing  but  bullheads.  We  go  farther  down  the  track, 
where  the  river  runs  right  close,  near  the  bridge 
where  my  brother  got  the  redhorse.  The  river  runs 
fast  there.  We  throw  in  again. 

Tip  says :  "  Look  a'  that !  Look  a'  that !  I  got 
a  bite!  Now  you  just  whait,  and  I'll  show  you 
something." 

He  pulls  up,  but  there  is  n't  anything  on.  He 
says:  "  You  have  to  jerk  quick  to  get  them  fellers. 
There !  He  's  at  it  again.  See  it?  " 

Bill  laughs.  He  says :  "  Oh,  go  on !  Your 
hook 's  draggin'  on  the  stones.  That  ain't  no 
bite." 

Tip  says:  "It  ain't,  ain't  it?  Well,  I'll  show 
you  whether  it  ain't." 

This  time  Tip  jerks  harder  and  quicker.  His  line 
flies  up  and  catches  on  the  telegraph  wire. 

Bill  and  I  laugh.  Tip  gets  red.  He  says: 
"  Laugh,  why  don't  you?  " 

We  keep  on  laughing.  Just  then  I  happen  to  look 
for  my  cork.  It  is  under.  I  jerk  as  quick  as  I  can. 
My  line  flies  up  and  catches  on  the  wire  right  near 
Tip's. 

195 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Tip  says :  "  Aha !  Now  it  ain't  half  so  funny, 
is  it?" 

We  stand  and  look  at  the  lines.  Tip  says: 
"  Darn  them  telegraph  wires !  I  'm  always  forget- 
t'n'  they  're  there." 

The  lines  went  around  the  wire  two  or  three 
times.  The  hooks  and  sinkers  are  dangling.  We 
can  just  about  reach  them  with  the  tips  of  our 
poles. 

Tip  says :  "  Now  't  won't  do  no  good  to  pull  or 
yank.  We  must  just  take  it  easy.  Just  kind  o' 
poke  'em  like,  till  we  get  'em  off.  More  haste  the 
less  speed,  they  say." 

We  both  try  to  poke  the  hooks  over,  and  unwind 
the  lines  that  way.  Before  long  my  hook  gets  caught 
on  a  wire  right  beside  the  other.  Tip's  gets  worse, 
too. 

We  try  a  long  time.  We  have  to  stretch  a  good 
deal  to  reach  the  lines  where  they  are  caught.  It 
makes  us  warm. 

By  and  by  I  begin  to  feel  mad.  I  can't  help  it. 
We  both  get  out  of  patience,  and  begin  to  jab  and 
yank.  At  last  we  yank  as  hard  as  we  can.  The 
lines  break. 

Bill  sits  on  a  rail  and  watches  us.  He  says : 
"  Now  you  done  it !  Now  you  ain't  got  any  lines  or 
hooks  at  all." 

Tip  says.  "What  do  I  care?  I  don't  want  to 
fish  any  more,  anyway." 

196 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  start  across  the  marsh  toward  Bill's.  The 
lines  and  hooks  hang  there  on  the  wires. 

The  sun  comes  out  again,  and  there  is  a  fine  breeze 
begins  to  blow.  It  is  so  warm  we  soon  begin  to  dry 
out. 

We  come  out  onto  the  road  near  Newbecker's. 
There  are  some  trees  there,  and  the  wind  makes  the 
leaves  rustle  so  that  we  notice. 

Tip  stops  and  says :  "  Come  ahead,  le'  's  climb  a 
tree !  It  '11  be  fine  up  in  there  with  the  wind  blowin'." 

We  throw  the  fishpoles  down,  and  run.  Tip  gets 
up  into  a  hickory  across  the  road,  and  Bill  climbs  up 
the  maple  on  Newbecker's  side.  I  have  to  go  up  the 
road  farther  for  my  tree.  It  is  another  hickory. 

Tip  and  I  get  up  into  the  tiptops  of  our  trees. 
We  get  away  up  to  where  they  are  small,  and  bend 
easily.  We  get  a  good  hold,  and  then  swing  back 
and  forth  as  hard  as  we  can. 

The  wind  is  fine  up  there.  The  leaves  rustle  and 
flutter  and  flap.  We  keep  swinging.  Every  little 
while  we  yell  back  and  forth :  "  Ri-i-ip  .  .  .  ski- 
i-ip  .  .  .  skin-em-a-dig-a-dye-doe ! "  Tip  taught  us 
that. 

By  the  time  I  get  home,  I  am  so  hungry  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  I  drop  the  bullheads  on  the  grass, 
and  go  right  in.  The  clock  is  just  striking  four. 

My  mother  looks  at  me.  She  smiles,  and  says : 
"  Well,  I  s'pose  you  're  awfully  hungry,  ain't  you  ? 
You  always  are." 

197 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

She  says :  "  Well,  you  can  get  you  something  in 
the  butt'ry  to  last  you  till  supper  time." 

I  find  some  biscuits  and  butter,  and  some  Dutch 
cheese.  It  is  so  good  that  I  can't  eat  fast  enough. 
I  get  my  mouth  so  full  I  can  hardly  swallow.  I  eat 
so  long  that  my  mother  has  to  say :  "  Come,  remem 
ber  it  '11  be  supper  time  in  an  hour  or  so." 

I  take  a  big  drink  out  of  the  dipper,  and  go  out  to 
clean  the  bullheads.  I  take  one  up,  and  cut  through 
the  skin  on  the  back  of  his  neck.  Then  I  cut  a  little 
hole  in  his  throat,  and  hang  him  on  a  nail  that  I  have 
on  one  of  the  basswoods.  I  take  a  pair  of  pinchers 
and  tear  the  skin  off  with  one  hand  while  I  press  him 
with  the  other  hand  to  keep  him  from  coming  off  the 
nail. 

Cleaning  bullheads  is  the  worst  part  about  fishing. 
Scale  fish  are  n't  nearly  so  bad.  But  my  mother 
says  I  need  n't  bring  fish  home  unless  I  want  to  clean 
them.  And  she  says  it 's  wicked  to  catch  the  poor 
things  and  then  throw  them  away. 


198 


XXXV 

/  Fmd  the  First  Strawberry,  and  My  Father 
Makes  Boxes 

I  TURN  the  cows  into  the  lane,  and  shut  the  gate. 
My  father  says  I  can  leave  them  in  the  woods 
again  to-day. 

I  start  back  down  the  road.  Just  beyond  the  big 
maple,  I  climb  over  the  fence  into  the  strawberry 
patch.  It  is  time  strawberries  were  beginning  to 
get  ripe. 

Right  where  I  climb  over,  there  are  cherry  trees 
along  the  fence.  They  are  full  of  green  cherries. 
Some  are  getting  white,  and  a  few  of  them  are  almost 
red.  The  robins  fly  out  of  the  trees  when  I  jump 
down  from  the  fence. 

I  walk  along  between  the  strawberry  rows.  The 
straw  is  wet  and  soft,  and  feels  good.  The  dew  is  n't 
anywhere  near  off  yet,  it  is  so  early.  The  vines  are 
big  and  green,  and  all  wet.  The  rows  are  so  near 
together  that  they  get  my  feet  and  ankles  wet. 

I  stoop  over  and  brush  the  vines  with  my  hand.  I 
half  expect  to  see  something  red  down  there  among 
the  green  and  yellow  leaves.  There  are  lots  of  clus- 

199 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

ters  of  green  berries,  and  quite  a  few  white  blossoms 
with  yellow  centers.     My  hand  gets  wet  and  cool. 

All  of  a  sudden,  just  as  I  straighten  up  to  go 
along,  a  rabbit  gives  a  jump  and  scampers  away 
between  the  rows.  It  scares  me  at  first.  Then  I  run 


after  him  till  he  goes  into  the  clover.  His  tail  is 
like  a  little  bunch  of  cotton.  It  keeps  bobbing  up 
and  down. 

It  makes  me  think  of  last  year,  when  Uncle  An 
thony  reaped  our  wheat  and  I  ran  after  the  little  rab 
bit  and  got  him  under  a  bundle,  and  my  brother 
helped  me  catch  him.  I  wonder  if  this  is  n't  the  same 
rabbit,  only  grown  up. 

I  walk  along  farther.  I  know  it  is  no  use  looking 
200 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

where  the  vines  are  so  deep.  The  sun  does  n't  get 
down  in  there.  I  keep  watch  of  the  thin  places,  and 
the  south  sides  of  the  rows.  There  is  where  you 
always  find  the  ripe  ones  first. 

After  a  while,  all  at  once  I  give  a  jump.     I  just 
saw  something  red.     But  I  don't 
stop,  because  I  see  right  away  that 
it  is  only  a  little  red  leaf. 


\> 

Pretty  soon  I  jump  again,  and  squat  down.  This 
time  it  is  really  a  red  berry.  But  when  I  turn  it 
over  it  is  green  on  the  other  side.  I  rumple  up  the 
straw  between  the  rows  a  little,  to  help  me  find  the 
place  to-morrow  morning.  I  go  on  looking. 

I  walk  up  and  down  three  or  four  rows  before  I 
see  anything  red  again.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  I  jump 
and  squat  down  quicker  than  ever.  I  say: 
"  Oh-h-h !  M-m-m-m  !  Ain't  you  a  nice  ripe  one  ? 
M-m-m-m!  Oh-h-h!" 

This  one  is  red  all  over,  and  plump  and  firm.  I 
put  my  first  two  fingers  under  it,  and  get  ready  to 
pull  it  off.  I  sit  looking  at  it,  and  saying:  "  M-m- 

201 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

m-m ! "  There  are  tiny,  plump  little  bits  of  seeds 
scattered  all  over  it.  They  are  yellow,  and  glisten 
like  gold.  The  pointed  leaves  under  it,  where  my 
fingers  hold  it,  are  crisp  and  green. 

I  pull.  The  berry  comes  off.  It  makes  a  sort  of 
smacking  noise,  and  rolls  over  in  my  hand.  I  hold 
it  up  and  look  at  it,  and  smell  of  it.  It  makes  me 
think  of  straw,  but  it  has  a  berry  smell,  too. 

I  don't  find  any  more,  but  I  know  there  will  be  one 
or  two  to-morrow,  and  then  they  will  begin  to  come 
fast.  I  run  to  the  house.  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  have 
my  mother  see  the  first  berry. 

I  hold  the  berry  in  my  hand,  covered  up.  I  go  up 
to  my  mother. 

I  say :     "  Hold  out  your  hand !  " 

My  mother  says:  "What  is  it?  A  bug?  "  She 
laughs  a  little. 

I  say:     "No." 

My  mother  does  n't  hold  out  her  hand. 

I  say:     "Here!     Take  it!" 

I  look  up  at  her,  and  laugh.  She  holds  her  hand. 
I  let  the  berry  drop  into  it. 

My  mother  opens  her  hand.  She  says :  "  Oh, 
the  first  strawberry !  Thank  you !  M-m-m-mm ! 
Where  did  you  find  it?  " 

She  puts  the  berry  in  a  white  saucer  and  sets  it  on 
the  table.  She  says :  "  It 's  too  pretty  to  eat. 
We  '11  save  it  till  dinner  time,  so  your  pa  can  see  it. 
Then  we  '11  divide  it.  Shall  we?  " 

202 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  say :  "  I  want  to  show  it  to  him  now.  Can 
I?  " 

I  can  hear  my  father  hammering,  out  in  the  barn. 
I  can  tell  by  the  sound  that  he  is  making  strawberry 
boxes.  It  rings  a  little  when  he  lays  the  hammer 
down  on  the  iron  part. 

I  take  the  berry  in  the  saucer  and  run  out.  My 
father  is  glad  to  see  it.  He  says :  "  Well,  well, 
well !  A  nice,  ripe  berry  !  You  don't  say !  " 

He  says :  "  Which  end  of  the  patch  did  you  get 
it  in  —  the  north?  " 

I  say  yes.  My  father  says  he  thought  so,  because 
that  was  the  early  end.  He  says :  "  'T  won't  be 
many  days  now  before  they  're  in  full  swing.  I  de 
clare,  I  don't  see  how  I  'm  goin'  to  be  able  to  'tend  to 
the  hay  and  berries  all  at  once.  You  '11  all  have  to 
turn  in  and  help,  I  guess." 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  If  that  boy  had  n't  gone 
and  run  off  just  as  work  was  beginnin',  it  would  be 
different.  Well,  I  s'pose  I  've  got  to  get  me  some 
more  help,  and  that 's  all  there  is  to  it." 

I  take  the  berry  back  to  the  house,  and  come  out 
to  the  barn  again.  My  father  is  just  coming  up 
from  the  basement  with  an  armful  of  box-stuff.  It 
has  to  be  soaked  before  you  can  make  boxes  of  it. 
It  has  little  lines  cut  across  it,  so  it  will  fold.  If  it 
is  n't  wet,  it  breaks  right  off. 

My  father  lays  the  box-stuff  on  top  of  a  barrel  at 
his  left  hand.  There  is  a  bunch  of  long  pieces  with 

203 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

four  lines  cut  across  them,  and  a  bunch  with  only 
two. 

My  father  gets  up  on  his  barrel.  It  has  the  old 
buffalo  robe  over  it.  His  legs  hang  down.  In  front 
of  him  there  is  a  thick  scantling.  The  end  next  to 
him  has  an  iron  plate  on  it.  The  other  end  of  it 
sticks  into  the  big  upright  beam  that  runs  away  up 
to  the  scaffold.  There  is  another  scantling  that 
stands  on  the  floor  and  holds  up  the  end  of  the  one 
with  the  iron  on  it. 

My  father  folds  one  of  the  short  pieces,  and  lets  it 
hang  over  the  scantling.  Next,  he  bends  a  long 
piece,  and  folds  it  so  it  makes  the  outside  of  a  box. 
Then  he  puts  the  short  piece  inside  the  long  one,  to 
make  the  bottom.  After  that  he  puts  the  box  over 
the  end  of  the  scantling  and  drives  in  the  tacks.  The 
iron  is  to  make  them  clinch.  He  has  the  tacks  in  a 
little  square  place  on  the  scantling  in  front  of  him. 

There  is  a  big  heap  of  boxes  already  made.  When 
my  father  throws  another  on,  it  rolls  down  the  side 
of  the  heap  and  makes  a  light,  hollow  noise.  It 
is  n't  like  a  wood  noise,  and  it  is  n't  like  pasteboard, 
but  half  way  between. 

I  stand  and  watch.  Pretty  soon  my  father  says: 
"  I  s'pose  you  might  be  putting  'em  into  cases. 
Don't  you  want  to  ?  You  won't  have  to  go  to  school 
for  an  hour  yet,  will  you?  " 

I  get  some  cases,  and  begin  to  put  the  boxes  in. 
The  cases  hold  sixteen  quarts.  When  I  get  them  all 

204 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

in,  there  are  ten  or  twelve  cases.  Georgie  always 
calls  them  "  crates."  He  used  to  live  in  Town,  and 
he  says  lots  of  things  different. 

My  father  gets  down  from  the  barrel.  He  says: 
"  Anyway,  there  's  enough  to  keep  us  goin'  for  the 
first  pickin'  or  two." 

He  goes  to  the  door  and  looks  out.  He  says: 
"  Well,  by  the  time  I  can  get  hitched  up  on  the  mower, 
I  guess  the  dew  '11  be  about  off.  I  got  to  get  at  that 
clover.  I  want  to  get  it  pretty  well  along  by  the 
time  the  berries  get  to  booming." 

We  start  for  the  stable.  We  go  down  the  base 
ment  ladder.  The  old  mares  begin  to  whinner. 
They  think  maybe  we  are  going  to  bring  them  some 
oats. 

My  father  says :  "  You  see  I  made  quite  a  lot  of 
boxes  while  I  was  waiting  for  the  dew  to  go  off." 

He  goes  after  the  currycomb  and  brush.  He  says : 
"  You  can  get  a  good  deal  done  by  watching  the  cor 
ners  of  your  time.  Of  course,  we  won't  need  the 
boxes  for  a  day  or  two  yet,  but  it 's  a  good  deal  bet 
ter  to  drive  your  work  than  to  have  your  work  drive 
you." 


805 


XXXVI 

It  Is  a  Hot  Day  at  School,  and  Charley  and 
Dan  Have  a  Quarrel 

IT  is  hot  in  the  school  room.  It  makes  me  think 
of  the  word  "  sultry."  We  never  say  sultry, 
though,  when  we  talk.  We  always  say  "  muggy." 
That  means  that  the  grass  is  thick  and  green  and 
full  of  mosquitoes,  and  the  ground  is  moist  and  warm, 
and  the  sun  is  hot,  and  you  feel  sticky.  And  you 
feel  sure  it  will  rain  again  soon. 

Teacher  is  red  in  the  face.  She  sits  and  fans  her 
self,  and  looks  out  through  the  window.  Every  lit 
tle  while  she  wipes  her  face  with  her  handkerchief. 

It  is  so  hot  we  don't  feel  like  cutting  up.  We  sit 
and  study  our  spelling  and  geography  without  car 
ing  very  much  one  way  or  the  other.  Tip  is  whisper 
ing  away  to  himself :  "  Believe,  b-e-1-i-e-v-e,  b-e- 
1-i-e-v-e,  b-e-1-i-e-v-e ;  conceive,  c-o-n-c-e-i-v-e,  c-o-n- 
c-e-i-v-e,  c-o-n-c-e-i-v-e — ."  I  am  whispering: 
"What  other  principal  products  of  Russia?  — 
Wheat-wool-wine-salt,  wheat-wool-wine-salt,  wheat- 
wool-wine-salt  — ." 

Teacher  says  to  us :  "  Try  not  to  make  quite  so 
much  noise  with  your  studying."  She  smiles.  She 

206 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

wipes  her  face  again,  and  keeps  on  fanning.  When 
we  recite,  she  does  n't  seem  to  care  a  great  deal 
whether  we  have  a  good  lesson  or  not. 

There  are  quite  a  few  seats  without  scholars. 
That  is  because  it  is  summer  term,  and  the  big  boys 
and  girls  are  all  working  at  home.  Tip  and  I  are 
almost  the  biggest  boys  ourselves  now.  There  are 
only  two  or  three  boys  that  are  older,  but  thore  are 
five  or  six  girls. 

Teacher  lets  out  for  noon.  We  take  our  dinner 
pails  and  go  out  under  the  big  maples.  Tip  goes 
home  for  his  dinner,  the  way  he  always  does. 

When  we  get  through  dinner,  we  all  go  in  and  put 
our  pails  back  on  the  shelf.  Then  we  go  out  into  the 
entry  and  get  a  drink.  The  water  is  n't  very  cool. 
The  dipper  is  rusty.  When  I  drink,  Dan  gives  the 
dipper  a  push.  The  water  slops  onto  my  shirt.  I 
chase  Dan  out  of  doors. 

It  is  too  hot  to  play  ball.  We  try  peg  a  while,  but 
give  it  up.  We  try  duck-on-the-rock,  and  give  that 
up,  too.  We  lie  down  on  our  elbows  in  the  shade 
again. 

Charley  Binzel  has  a  chew  of  rubber  gum.  He  is 
bigger  than  we.  He  does  n't  have  to  stay  at  home 
and  work,  because  his  father  keeps  saloon. 

Charley  chews  his  gum  and  talks  at  the  same  time. 
Dan  has  some  gum,  too.  He  takes  hold  of  it  with 
his  fingers  and  draws  it  away  out  in  a  long  strip. 
Then  he  chews  it  back  in  again. 

207 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Charley  sits  up.  He  says  to  Lije:  "I  bet  you 
can't  do  this !  "  He  cracks  all  his  knuckles  at  the 
same  time. 

Lije's  father  is  treasurer  of  the  school  district. 
We  saw  his  name  in  the  register  after  he  visited  school 
one  day.  He  could  n't  write  as  well  as  we  can,  and 
he  spelled  it  "  T-r-e-s-u-e-r." 

Lije  says :     "  I  bet  you  I  can  too !  " 

Charley  says :     "  All  right,  le'  's  see  you,  then !  " 

Lije  says:  "I  could  if  I  wanted  to.  I  don't 
want  to." 

Charley  says :     "  Why  don't  you  want  to  ?  " 

Lije  says:     "  'Cause.     It  makes  your  ankles  big." 

We  all  laugh  at  Lije.     He  gets  red. 

Charley  says :  "  Ankles  your  grandmother !  Go 
on !  You  mean  your  knuckles.  Ankles !  " 

Lije  says:  "Never  you  mind  what  I  mean!  I 
guess  I  know  what  I  mean !  "  He  looks  mad. 

Charley  sits  up  again.  He  leans  on  his  hand  in 
stead  of  his  elbow.  He  says  to  Dan :  "  Come  on 
over  here.  I  want  to  tell  you  somethin'." 

Dan  says:     "  WJiut  do  you  want  to  tell  me?" 

Charley  says :  "  Come  over  here  and  I  '11  tell  you. 
Come  here,  close!  I  got  to  whisper  it." 

Dan  likes  it  because  Charley  chooses  him  to  tell 
it  to.  He  goes  over  and  sits  down  where  Charley 
says. 

Charley  makes  believe  he  whispers  something  in 
Dan's  ear.  Then  he  rolls  over  and  jumps  up  and 

208 


begins   to   laugh.     He   yells    out :     "  Sold    again !  " 

Dan  jumps  up  with  his  fists  doubled.  He  is  always 
ready  to  get  mad  about  something.  He  feels  of  his 
pants  where  he  sat  down,  and  there  is  a  big  flat  piece 
of  rubber  gum  sticking  there.  There  are  little  pieces 
of  dirt  and  grass  in  it.  Dan  tries  to  get  it  off,  but 
it  won't  all  come. 

Dan  runs  at  Charley  and  keeps  trying  to  hit  him 
with  his  fists,  but  Charley's  arms  are  too  long,  and 
Dan  can't  reach  him. 

Dan  says :  "  You  wait,  will  you,  till  I  get  a  hold 
of  a  good  big  club,  and  I  '11  show  you,  you  — "  He 
goes  running  and  circling  around  until  he  finds  a 
great  big  stick.  He  grabs  it  up,  and  begins  to  run 
at  Charley  again. 

Charley  runs  around  the  big  maple,  and  keeps 
dodging.  He  yells :  "  Here !  You  put  that  club 
down,  you  little  sucker!  Put  down  that  club,  I  tell 
you!" 

Dan  keeps  on  running  at  him,  and  yells :  "  I 
won't  either!  You  just  come  away  from  this  tree, 
and  I  '11  show  you  whether  I  will  or  not,  you  old  — " 

Charley  yells :  "  You  will,  will  you  ?  "  He  stops 
running.  Dan  stops,  too.  Charley  walks  up  to  him, 
and  says :  "  Put  down  that  club,  I  tell  you !  " 

Dan  stands  still,  and  looks  up  at  Charley.  His 
face  is  all  red.  He  scowls.  He  says :  "  I  don't  haf 
to.  You  need  n't  think  I  'm  afraid  o'  you,  you  old 
beer-belly  you ! " 

209 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Charley  steps  up  closer  to  him.  He  doubles  up  his 
fists,  and  holds  them  out  a  little  way  toward  Dan. 
He  says :  "  Don't  you  call  me  that  again,  if  you 
know  what 's  good  for  you !  " 

Dan  says :  "  Well  I  will  call  you  it,  as  often  as  I 
want  to !  Then  you  need  n't  go  stickin'  gum  on  my 
pants." 

Charley  says :  "  Well,  you  won't  call  me  it,  and 
you  need  n't  give  me  any  more  o'  your  lip !  Now, 
you  know  it  ?  " 

Dan  says :  "  That 's  all  right !  You  need  n't 
think  you  're  goin'  to  stick  your  ol'  gum  on  my  pants. 
You  would  n't  dast  to  do  it  to  anyone  o'  your 
size." 

Charley  says :  "  Well,  you  need  n't  think  you  're 
goin'  to  call  me  beer-belly,  that 's  all !  " 

Dan  says :  "  Well  I  will  if  I  want  to,  and  it  '11 
take  more  'n  you  to  stop  me !  " 

Charley  says :  "  It  will,  hey  ?  I  '11  show  you 
whether  it  will  or  not !  " 

Dan  says:  "You  just  lay  a  hand  on  me  and 
you  '11  see !  That 's  all  right !  " 

They  both  stand  there.  Dan  holds  the  club,  and 
Charley  keeps  his  fists  doubled. 

Lije  says  to  Charley:  "Why  don't  you  hit  him? 
You  dassent ! " 

Dan  says:  "Yes,  why  don't  you  hit  me,  if  you 
want  to  so  bad?  Just  try  it,  and  you  '11  see!  " 

Charley  says :  "  Huh !  S'pose  I  'd  dirty  my 
210 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

hands  on  a  little  pup  like  you?"  He  walks  away 
from  us. 

Dan  says:  "That's  all  right!  He  needn't 
think  he  can  stick  his  ol'  gum  on  my  pants." 

Lije  calls  out:     "Dassent,  dassent,  dassent!" 

Charley  turns  around,  and  walks  back  right  up  to 
Lije.  He  says:  "Say,  do  you  want  anything? 
Huh?  "  He  doubles  up  his  fists. 

Lije  gets  red.  He  says:  "Get  away  from  me, 
now!  Take  someone  o'  your  size.  Get  away!  / 
ain't  touched  you,  have  I?  " 

Charley  says:  "Who  said  you  had,  huh?  Who 
said  you  had?  "  He  takes  Lije  by  the  neck  of  his 
shirt. 

Lije  gives  a  jerk  and  gets  away.  He  runs  as  fast 
as  he  can,  and  yells :  "  Dassent,  dassent,  dassent !  " 

Charley  shakes  his  fist  at  Lije.  He  yells :  "  Just 
wait  till  I  catch  you,  young  feller ! " 


311 


XXXVII 

Gertie  and  Tip  Have  Trouble  with  Dan  in 
Counting  out  and  Peg 

THE  girls  are  down  under  the  basswood,  near 
the  schoolhouse.  They  put  the  covers  onto 
their  dinner  pails,  and  set  them  all  together  by  the 
tree. 

One  of  the  girls  yells  up  to  us :  "  Want  to  play 
hide-and-go-seek  ?  " 

We  all  run  down  to  where  they  are.  In  winter  we 
never  play  with  the  girls,  but  now  it  is  different. 
The  big  boys  are  n't  here,  and  there  are  n't  so  many 
boys'  games. 

Gertie  says :     "  Come  on,  I  '11  count  out." 

We  all  stand  around  Gertie.  She  begins  to  point 
at  us,  one  after  another.  She  says: 

"  O-shoo-sky-bloo, 
All-out-but-you ! " 

The  "  you "  comes  on  Dan.  Gertie  says : 
"You're  it!" 

Dan  begins  to  scowl  and  talk  cross  right  away. 
He  says :  "  Oh,  that  ain't  no  fair !  You  have  to 
count  out  the  other  way." 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Gertie  says :  "  All  right,  I  '11  do  it  the  other  way, 
if  you  ain't  satisfied."  She  points  again,  and  says : 

"  Mon-key-mon-key-bot-tle-o'-beer, 
How-many-mon-keys-are-they-here? 
One-two-three-out-goes-she ! " 

The  "  she "  comes  on  Minnie.  Gertie  says : 
"  Minnie  's  out !  " 

Minnie  jumps  up,  and  says:  "Goody!  I  don't 
have  to  be  it !  " 

Gertie  goes  over  "  Mon-key-mon-key  "  again,  and 
Nettie  goes  out.  Then  I  go  out,  and  some  more  go 
out.  There  are  only  Dan  and  a  couple  of  others 
left. 

Dan  shoves  in  between  Gertie  and  the  rest.  He  is 
afraid  he  will  be  it.  He  says :  "  Oh,  I  know  a  bet 
ter  one  'n  that !  Hoi'  on !  Listen !  " 

Dan  begins : 

"Ink  — pink  - 
Oh  —  how  —  you  —  do  — " 

Gertie  gives  him  a  push.  It  almost  knocks  him 
over.  She  says :  "  Keep  still !  You  ought  to  be 
'shamed  of  yourself.  Now  you  can't  play  with  us !  " 
She  gets  red  in  the  face,  and  looks  mad. 

Dan  looks  cross  right  away.  He  says :  "  I  kin 
too  play!  Who's  a-goin'  to  stop  me?  I'll  play 
for  all  o'  you!  " 

Gertie  says :  "  Well,  you  won't !  Now  you  go 
'way,  or  I  '11  tell  teacher !  " 

213 


Dan  looks  crosser  than  ever.  He  says :  "  All 
right,  tell-her,  and  smell-her,  and  kick-her-down-cel- 
lar!  7  don't  care.  I  do'  want  to  play  any 
how!" 

We  play  hide-and-seek  a  while  without  Dan. 
Then  one  of  the  girls  says :  "  Oh,  don't  let 's  play 
this  any  longer !  It 's  so  hot.  Let 's  play  drop-the- 
handkerchief !  That  '11  be  lots  cooler." 

Minnie  says :  "  No,  le'  's  play  ring-around-the 
rosy !  Come  on !  Over  here,  on  this  nice  grass 
place." 

Lije  says :     "  Oh,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  play  that!  " 

I  say :  "  I  wish  Tip  'd  hurry  up  and  come  back 
from  dinner.  I  don't  see  why  he  can't  bring  his  grub 
to  school,  anyway,  like  the  rest  of  us." 

Just  then  we  hear  Tip  yell :  "  Yah-'oo !  Yah- 
'oo !  "  He  can  always  get  that  yell  better  than  any 
one  else. 

Tip  comes  running  up  to  where  we  are.  Georgie 
gets  back  at  the  same  time. 

We  all  sit  down  in  the  shade.  Tip  says :  "  Come 
on,  le'  's  have  a  game  o'  peg !  " 

Dan  gets  beat.  Tip  sharpens  a  peg  to  drive  in. 
Dan  will  have  to  pull  it  up  with  his  teeth. 

Tip  whittles  quite  a  while.  Dan  says :  "  Aw,  you 
dassent  make  it  so  sharp ! " 

The  reason  he  says  that  is  because  he  knows  it 
will  go  away  down  in  if  it  is  sharp,  and  he  '11  get  a 
mouthful  of  dirt  when  he  pulls  it. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Tip  takes  the  peg  in  his  left  hand.  He  says : 
'"  Now,  I  kin  hit  it  ten  times  with  my  eyes  shut." 

Tip  starts  the  peg  with  his  eyes  open.  Dan  yells : 
"  Hoi'  on  there!  That 's  enough!  You  got  to  shut 
your  eyes." 

Tip  says :  "  Well,  a  feller  's  got  to  get  it  started, 
ain't  he?" 

Dan  says :  "  Yes,  but  he  ain't  got  to  take  all  day, 
is  he?" 

Tip  takes  his  jackknife  by  the  blade.  He  looks 
at  the  peg  a  little  while.  Then  he  shuts  his  eyes,  and 
begins  to  say :  "  One  —  two  —  three  — ."  He  hits 
the  peg  every  time. 

Dan  jumps  up  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  looks 
at  Tip's  eyes.  He  yells :  "  Aw,  get  out !  You  're 
lookin' !  'T  ain't  no  fair !  I  ain't  goin'  to  pull  it, 
now!" 

Tip  says :     "  I  ain't  neither  lookin'.     Shut  up  !  " 

He  goes  on  counting :  "  Four  —  five  —  six  — 
seven  — ." 

Dan  keeps  watching  his  eyes,  to  see  whether  he 
looks. 

Tip  misses  only  once  or  twice.  The  peg  is  away 
down  in  the  grass. 

Dan  gets  down  on  his  hands  and  knees.  He  looks 
at  the  peg.  He  says :  "  'T  ain't  no  fair !  You 
looked  while  you  was  drivin'  it.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to 
pull  it." 

Tip  says  :  "  I  did  not  look  while  I  was  drirm  it ! 
215 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Go  on !     You  got  beat,  and  you  got  to  pull  the  peg." 

Dan  says:  "I  have,  have  I?  Who's  a-goin'  to 
make  me,  I  like  to  know !  " 

Tip  says:  "Me  an'  Georgie  an'  Lije  an'  Cully, 
that 's  who,  if  you  want  to  know."  Cully  is  what 
they  call  me  sometimes,  just  for  fun.  They  heard 
my  brother  say  it  once. 

Dan  says:  "Is  that  so?  Well,  you  just  try  it, 
that 's  all  7  got  to  say.  I  kin  lick  the  hull  four  o' 
you." 

Tip  says:  "You  kin,  kin  you?  All  right,  come 
on !  We  '11  give  you  a  chance !  " 

Tip  gets  up  and  makes  a  line  on  the  ground  over 
by  home  base.  We  all  stand  by  the  line,  with  our 
toes  on  it. 

Tip  says  to  Dan:  "Now  you  kin  just  step  up 
here,  if  you  want  anything !  " 

Dan  says :  "  I  don't  have  to.  If  you  want  to 
fight  so  bad,  you  can  just  come  over  here ! " 

Dan  goes  across  the  road,  and  stands  in  the  fence 
corner.  He  says :  "  Now,  come  on,  the  hull  four  o' 
you,  if  you  dast,  an'  I  '11  knock  you  into  the  middle  o' 
next  week ! " 

We  run  across  the  road,  and  stand  in  front  of  him. 
Every  time  we  make  a  motion  toward  him,  he  begins 
to  kick  with  both  legs  and  swing  both  arms,  all  at  the 
same  time. 

We  don't  care  very  much,  so  we  go  and  sit  down 
again. 

216 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Tip  says:  "Who  cares  for  him,  anyway?  He's 
all  mouth  !  We  could  lick  him  if  we  wanted  to."  He 
begins  to  practice  nosings.  He  says :  "  Could  n't 
we?" 

Lije  says:  "  Course  we  could!  But  we  would  n't 
dirty  our  hands  on  him,  would  we?  " 

Lije  says  that  because  he  heard  Charley  say  it  to 
Dan  a  while  ago.  He  is  always  doing  that  way. 

The  girls  are  playing  London  Bridge.  We  know 
it  because  we  can  hear  them  singing: 

"London  Bridge  is  falling  down,  falling  down,  falling  down; 
London  Bridge  is  falling  down,  my  —  fair  —  lady!" 

Dan  comes  back  and  sits  down  near  us.  He 
scowls.  When  we  look  at  him,  he  sticks  out  his 
tongue.  We  all  sit  with  our  feet  drawn  up,  and  our 
arms  around  our  knees. 

The  girls  begin  another  game.  This  time  they 
sing  something  that  always  ends : 

"Turn  to  the  east,  and  turn  to  the  west, 
And  turn  to  the  one  that  you  love  best ! " 


217 


XXXVIII 

We  Have  Thunder  and  Lightning,  Rain,  Hail, 
and  a  Fine  Rainbow 

THE  sun  shines  in  through  the  west  windows.     It 
has  got  so  far  around  that  the  hickories  don't 
shade  us  any  more.     It  is  hotter  than  ever. 

Tip  looks  at  me.  He  says:  "Your  head's  in  it 
now.  Don't  it  feel  hot?  "  He  puts  his  hand  on  top 
of  my  head.  He  sa}'s :  "  Ast  her  if  you  can't  put 
the  curtains  down.  Go  ahead !  " 

I  say :     "  I  do'  want  to.     You  ask  her." 

Tip  holds  his  hand  up.  Teacher  does  n't  look. 
Tip  snaps  his  fingers. 

Teacher  looks  cross.  She  says :  "  How  many 
times  have  I  told  you  I  don't  want  you  to  snap  your 
fingers  ?  " 

Tip  does  n't  say  anything.  Teacher  says : 
"  Well,  what  do  you  want?  " 

Tip  says:  "Can  he  pull  the  curtains  down? 
It 's  awful  hot." 

Teacher  says :  "  Of  course !  "  She  says :  "  You 
may  pull  down  the  whole  three  of  them." 

That  makes  it  darker.  The  curtains  are  green. 
When  they  move,  the  light  changes  in  the  room. 

218 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  sit  studying  quite  a  long  while.  Teacher  fans 
herself.  Gertie  waves  her  handkerchief  in  front  of 
her  face. 

Tip  has  drops  on  his  forehead.  He  whispers  to 
me :  "I  bet  you  my  shirt 's  wet  through,  on  my 
back.  Look!  Ain't  it?" 

I  lean  back  and  look.  Tip's  shirt  looks  darker 
under  the  suspenders,  and  along  by  the  side  of  them. 
The  edge  of  his  hair  is  wet,  too. 

Tip  begins  to  laugh.  He  is  looking  at  Lije. 
He  whispers  to  me:  "Look  a'  Lije!  Look  a'  the 
drop  o'  sweat  or  something  on  the  end  of  his 
nose." 

We  come  pretty  near  laughing  out  loud. 

Lije  sees  us  laughing  at  him.  He  looks  cross,  and 
pretty  soon  he  sticks  out  his  tongue  at  us.  That 
makes  the  drop  fall  onto  his  slate.  When  he  sees 
it,  he  keeps  looking  at  it  a  long  time.  He  can't  make- 
out  where  it  came  from.  We  almost  laugh  out  loud 
again. 

All  of  a  sudden  we  notice  that  it  is  a  great  deal 
darker  than  it  was.  We  know  it  must  be  different 
outside. 

Teacher  goes  and  puts  the  curtains  up.  The  sun 
is  under  a  cloud,  but  there  is  blue  sky  up  above  the 
cloud.  We  can  see  other  clouds.  They  are  high, 
and  heaped  up,  and  puffy.  At  the  top  they  are  white 
and  shiny.  At  the  bottom  they  are  grey,  and  almost 
black. 

219 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  can  tell  that  there  is  going  to  be  a  shower. 
We  are  all  glad,  because  that  will  make  it  cooler. 
Teacher  smiles.  Her  face  is  as  red  as  it  can  be. 

The  clouds  get  higher.  We  hear  the  leaves  on 
the  hickories  outside  rustle  a  little.  Then  one  of 
the  curtains  begins  to  swing  a  little,  and  we  feel  the 
cool  come  in.  At  the  same  time  we  hear  something 
away  off  over  the  woods  go :  "  Rum-mle-um-mle-um- 
rnle-um-m-m — '  That  is  thunder. 

Every  time  it  thunders  and  rains,  it  makes  me 
think  of  old  Grandpa  Blake.  He  is  one  of  the  Eng 
lish  from  down  near  the  east  burying  ground,  and 
he  talks  like  all  the  rest  of  the  English.  One  day 
when  he  came  to  Sunday  school,  he  stopped  outside 
where  we  were  all  waiting,  and  put  his  hand  on  my 
head,  and  said  to  all  of  us :  "  Well,  my  boys,  'ow 
hare  ye?"  Then  he  looked  at  the  sky,  and  said: 
"  I  guess  it 's  goin'  to  h-rain.  It  looks  like  thoonder 
in  the  h-west." 

We  always  say  it,  ever  since.  Tip  looks  at  me 
just  as  I  am  thinking  of  it.  He  begins  to  say  it: 
"  I  guess  it 's  goin'  to  h-rain.  It  looks  like 
thoonder  — " 

Just  as  Tip  says  it,  it  thunders  again.  It  goes : 
"  Rum-mle-um-mle-um-mle-um  .  .  .  boo-o-om  !  " 

It  gets  darker  than  ever.  The  clouds  are  so  high 
that  we  can't  see  the  white,  puffy  part  any  more. 
There  is  just  a  big,  solid,  dark  blue  cloud  all  over  the 
sky.  Once  in  a  while  there  is  a  flash  of  lightning. 

220 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

The  rumbling  sounds  nearer.  It  is  right  over  the 
woods  now. 

The  curtains  swing  in  again.  Then  they  rattle. 
We  feel  the  bree/e  enough  now  to  be  cooler.  We 
turn  our  faces  toward  the  windows  and  let  it  blow 
our  hair.  We  open  our  mouths  and  take  deep 
breaths.  We  breathe  out  again  with  a  "  Ha-a-ah !  " 
Teacher  smiles  at  us.  She  lays  her  fan  down. 

The  breeze  gets  almost  cold.  It  gets  too  strong. 
Teacher  puts  the  west  windows  down.  She  says : 
"  It  will  rain  soon,  anyway."  It  rumbles  right  along 
now,  and  there  are  lots  of  little  lightning  flashes. 

Pretty  soon  there  is  a  ticking  noise  on  the  windows, 
We  look  up,  and  see  drops  beginning  to  splash  on  the 
panes.  They  come  thicker  and  thicker.  It  lightens 
again.  It  is  so  dark  we  can  hardly  see  to  study. 
The  leaves  of  the  maples  outside  the  east  windows 
make  a  great  noise  with  their  rustling.  The  bass- 
wood  right  near  the  window  does  n't  rustle.  It  is 
so  near  that  the  wind  does  n't  strike  it,  but  the  big 
drops  come  down  on  its  leaves  with  a  loud,  patting 
sound. 

All  of  a  sudden  there  is  a  terrible  flash  of  lightning. 
We  all  jump  and  wink,  and  look  around  at  one  an 
other.  Then  there  is  an  awful  crash  of  thunder. 
We  sit  with  our  toes  pressed  against  the  floor  until  it 
comes.  The  girls  all  jump,  and  so  does  teacher. 
Gertie  gives  a  little  squeal  and  puts  her  fingers  in  her 
ears.  Some  of  the  little  girls  and  boys  begin  to  cry. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Teacher  says :     "  Never  mind !     It  won't  hurt  you." 

Then  the  rain  comes  pouring  down.  Outside  the 
windows,  it  is  all  white  when  we  look.  We  hear  the 
water  falling  on  the  roof,  and  we  hear  it  come  down 
on  the  ground  under  the  eaves.  The  spelling  class  is 
reciting.  We  can  hardly  hear  the  words. 

Something  begins  to  tick  louder  on  the  windows. 
At  first  it  ticks  just  once.  It  sounds  as  if  a  gravel 
stone  had  hit  the  pane.  Then  there  is  another  tick, 
and  another.  Then  there  are  a  lot  of  them.  It  is 
hail.  We  can  hear  the  stones  strike  the  roof  and  the 
leaves  of  the  basswood.  The  big  ones  hit  the 
shingles,  and  then  bound.  They  are  so  heavy  we  be 
gin  to  hear  them  thump  on  the  ground.  They  strike 
the  window  panes  so  hard  we  are  afraid  they  will 
break  the  glass. 

I  stretch  up  in  my  seat  and  look  out.  The  stones 
are  dancing  on  the  grass.  The  road  is  full  of  muddy 
water.  The  big  waterdrops  dance  in  the  road  just 
like  the  hailstones  on  the  grass. 

It  rains  and  lightens  and  thunders  and  hails  until 
we  begin  to  wonder  how  the  girls  are  going  to  get 
home.  We  boys  don't  care  for  a  little  rain. 

But  all  of  a  sudden  there  is  the  biggest  flash  of 
lightning  of  all,  and  the  biggest  crash  of  thunder. 
We  can  hardly  see  or  hear  after  it.  Everyone's  eyes 
look  big. 

For  a  minute  the  rain  does  n't  come  down  so  hard. 
Then  there  is  another  big  flash  and  crash,  with  a  lot 

222 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

of  thunder  afterward  that  sounds  like  a  team  of 
horses  and  a  big  wagon  on  top  of  someone's  barn, 
with  the  horses  rearing  like  everything.  Then  all  of 
a  sudden  it  gets  lighter.  We  don't  hear  the  rain  on 
the  roof  any  more.  We  only  hear  it  falling  off  the 
eaves.  It  looks  as  if  the  sun  were  going  to  come  out 
again. 

By  and  by  a  little  breeze  comes  again.  The  leaves 
of  the  basswood  flutter,  and  a  lot  of  drops  come  down. 
Then  the  sun  begins  to  shine.  Everything  is  as  quiet 
as  can  be. 

Teacher  is  just  through  with  the  last  spelling 
class.  She  says:  "There!  It's  stopping  just  in 
time.  You  may  pack  up  your  books."  By  and  by 
she  says :  "  Dismissed,"  and  we  all  go  out. 

The  steps  are  wet  and  clean.  There  are  little 
hailstones  scattered  on  them.  The  air  is  cool,  but 
right  away  we  can  feel  the  warm  sun.  The  ground 
is  all  hailstones  and  water.  In  some  places  the  tops 
of  the  grass  are  all  you  can  see  above  the  water.  In 
other  places  the  stones  are  so  thick  we  can  scoop 
them  up  in  our  hands.  Our  feet  are  so  cold  from  the 
water  and  the  hailstones  that  they  get  all  red. 

We  scoop  up  the  hailstones,  and  look  at  them,  and 
put  them  in  our  mouths.  We  hold  them  in  our  hands 
until  they  melt.  Tip  goes  up  behind  Minnie  and 
puts  one  down  her  neck.  She  begins  to  scream,  and 
runs  away. 

The  little  Polacks  see  Tip  put  the  hailstone  down 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Minnie's  neck.  They  start  and  run,  and  don't  stop 
until  they  think  we  won't  chase  them. 

Tip  yells  to  August :  "  Come  on  back,  August ! 
Here  's  some  awful  big  ones  here,  under  the  tree. 
Come  on ! " 

August  yells :  "  I  von't  do  ut !  You  tink  ve  vant 
such  a  hailshtones  down  our  backs?" 

They  stand  there  in  a  row.  We  make  believe  we 
are  going  to  chase  them.  They  turn  around  and  run 
as  fast  as  they  can  until  they  are  over  the  hill. 

We  pick  up  some  of  the  biggest  stones  and  throw 
them  at  the  trees.  Then  we  throw  some  at  each 
other.  There  are  fresh  green  leaves  on  the  ground. 
The  hailstones  knocked  them  off.  Some  of  them  have 
holes  in  them. 

Tip  says :  "  These  here  are  nothin'  to  the  ones 
that  come  down  once  when  ma  was  alive.  Some  of 
'em  was  as  big  as  hen's  eggs.  I  had  one  of  'em  take 
me  on  the  head,  and  it  made  a  bump  like  an  English 
walnut." 

While  we  are  looking  on  the  ground  for  big  hail 
stones,  all  at  once  someone  yells  out:  "  Oh,  look  at 
the  rainbow !  " 

We  all  stop  and  look  up.  It  is  just  coming  out, 
up  above  the  basswood  and  the  maples.  In  a  minute 
more  it  is  as  bright  as  can  be.  One  end  of  it  comes 
down  at  one  side  of  Lije's  house,  and  the  other  away 
over  north  by  the  Dutch  church. 

The  schoolhouse  trees  seem  greener  than  we  ever 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

saw  them  before.  The  cloud  under  the  rainbow  is 
so  blue  it  is  almost  black. 

We  all  say :     "  0-o-oh,  ain't  it  pretty !  " 

We  go  from  one  place  to  another  to  see  it.  Soon 
there  is  another  bow  right  near  it,  but  not  so  bright. 
Then  the  first  one  begins  to  fade,  and  the  other  one 
is  gone. 

We  begin  to  play  with  the  hailstones  again.  The 
little  ones  are  just  about  melted.  Pretty  soon  we 
start  for  home.  We  walk  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
where  the  mud  is  deep.  It  squeezes  up  between  our 
toes,  and  feels  funny. 

We  stop  in  front  of  Tip's  house  to  make  some  mud 
pies.  We  make  them  big,  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
road.  The  mud  is  always  deep  in  front  of  Tip's 
house.  They  have  a  little  crossing  made  of  ashes, 
or  Tip's  auntie  could  never  go  to  see  the  neighbors 
or  get  to  church  a  day  like  this. 


225 


XXXIX 

7  Manage  the  Strawberry  Picking  While  My 
Father  Gets  in  Hay 

MY  father  sets  down  his  coffee  cup,  and  says  to 
Ernest :  "  Ernest,  you  might  hitch  up  right 
away.  There  ain't  any  dew  this  morning,  and  we 
can  begin  to  draw  as  soon  as  we  can  get  out." 

Ernest  is  our  hired  man.  My  father  had  to  get 
him  because  my  brother  ran  away. 

My  father  says  to  me :  "I  guess  you  and  your 
ma  '11  have  to  superintend  the  picking.  I  can't  spare 
any  time  from  the  clover." 

He  says  to  me :  "  I  guess  you  better  run  down 
and  see  if  you  can't  get  Annie  and  Pauline  to  pick. 
Maybe  you  can  get  one  or  two  of  the  depot  boys,  too. 
You  '11  need  all  the  help  you  can  get." 

My  father  gets  up  to  go  out.  He  puts  his  old 
straw  hat  on.  It  is  all  ragged  around  the  edge.  He 
says :  "  Now,  you  women  folks  be  careful  of  the 
vines,  and  don't  trample  'em  all  down.  You  do  make 
such  awful  work  with  your  dresses ! " 

I  leave  the  cows  in  the  road  while  I  run  down  to 
the  depot.  Annie  and  Pauline  say  they  will  come. 

226 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

They  are  the  wives  of  the  section  men  that  pas 
ture  their  cows  in  our  lot.  I  get  Jim  and  Fritz, 
too. 

When  I  get  back,  I  turn  the  cows  into  the  lane. 
Then  I  run  home  and  out  to  the  barn.  I  carry  out 
some  cases  under  my  arms.  I  put  them  under  the 
cherry  trees  by  the  road,  at  the  edge  of  the  straw 
berry  patch. 

We  take  a  row  apiece,  and  begin.  My  mother  has 
the  row  next  to  me.  We  set  our  boxes  in  the  open 
spots  in  the  middle  of  the  vines,  where  the  leaves 
are  n't  so  thick.  We  get  all  the  berries  that  are  in 
sight,  and  then  brush  the  vines  over  to  find  those  that 
are  hidden. 

The  berries  are  so  thick  that  I  can  almost  pick  a 
quart  without  moving.  I  get  five  or  six  empty  boxes 
and  drop  them  along  the  row  ahead  of  me,  so  I  won't 
have  to  get  up  so  often.  I  pick  into  two  boxes  at 
the  same  time. 

When  I  have  my  boxes  full,  I  carry  them  down  to 
the  cherry  trees  and  put  them  in  the  cases  in  the 
shade.  I  carry  the  other  people's  boxes,  too,  so  they 
can  go  on  picking.  I  set  each  one's  in  a  different 
place. 

Annie's  berries  are  all  juice.  I  have  to  go  to  her 
and  say :  "  You  must  put  your  fingers  on  both  sides 
of  the  stem  when  you  pick,  and  pull  'em  off,  that 
way  —  not  take  hold  of  the  berry  itself.  Then  you 
won't  squush  'em  so." 

227 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Annie  says :  "  Oho,  so  dot 's  dc  vay  you  do  ut ! 
All  right  den."  Annie  drags  her  words.  We  like  to 
hear  her  talk. 

Pauline  says:  "How  green  should  ve  pick  um? 
Will  dese  here  vones  do?  Or  should  ve  pick  um  riper, 
yet?  " 

I  look  at  Pauline's  box,  and  say :  "  Some  of  'em 
are  too  green.  Have  'em  red  all  over." 

Fritz  says :  "  Are  mine  and  Jim's  full  enough  ? 
Do  you  want  us  to  heap  'em  up,  or  should  we  have 
'em  j  ust  level  with  the  box  ?  " 

I  go  and  look  at  their  boxes.  I  say :  "  Heap  'em 
up  a  little  more.  Pa  says  he  likes  to  give  good,  full 
measure.  Anyway,  you  know  they  shake  down  by 
the  time  he  gets  to  the  Village." 

Annie  and  Pauline  do  a  good  deal  of  talking.  My 
mother  and  I  laugh  to  ourselves  at  the  broken  way 
they  talk. 

Pauline  says :  "  I  yoost  got  to  vork  in  my  po- 
tadoes,  ven  he  comes  and  ast  vedder  I  vould  pick  to 
day.  Ferst,  I  did  n't  vant  to." 

Annie  says :  "  It  vas  yoost  de  same  vay  vit  me. 
But  den  I  tought  how  my  man  he  likes  dose  berries, 
and  I  tought  I  might  yoost  as  veil  come  as  not.  I 
said,  dat  ol'  garden  it  can  vait  till  to-morrow  al 
ready." 

Jim  says:  "  Dast  we  eat  some?  Does  your  fa 
ther  care  ?  " 

I  say:     "  Oh,  if  you  don't  eat  too  many." 
228 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Pretty  soon  I  hear  Annie  say :  *'  Dose  boys  dey 
iss  eating  more  as  dey  iss  picking,  not?  " 

When  Annie  gets  five  quarts  picked,  she  sets  the 
last  one  down  by  her  pail.  She  says :  "  Dis  here 
vone,  it  '11  be  mine,  von't  it  ?  " 

We  give  every  fifth  quart.  If  they  want  money, 
we  give  them  a  cent  and  a  half.  Jim  and  Fritz  are 
going  to  take  pay.  They  say  they  want  to  get  a  lit 
tle  money  for  firecrackers. 

I  have  to  go  after  more  boxes.  I  get  enough  so 
that  everyone  can  have  a  case.  I  take  all  the  empty 
boxes  out,  and  put  the  full  ones  in. 

I  lose  time  attending  to  the  rest,  but  I  get  my  case 
filled  as  soon  as  the  others,  because  I  am  a  fast 
picker.  I  have  had  a  lot  of  practice. 

I  begin  to  carry  the  cases  to  the  house.  I  get 
pretty  tired  by  the  time  I  am  there.  I  put  the  cases 
on  the  cellar  bottom.  The  berries  look  fine.  They 
glisten  a  little  in  the  dark. 

I  get  another  case  half  full  before  dinner.  My 
mother  has  to  stop  at  eleven,  to  get  dinner  for  the 
men.  We  all  stop  at  quarter  to  twelve.  Jim  and 
Fritz  run  home  for  their  dinner. 

We  are  at  it  again  by  one.  We  don't  feel  quite  so 
much  like  it  now,  though.  Every  little  while  I  stand 
up  and  look  to  see  how  many  rows  are  left.  It  will 
take  till  supper  time.  Annie  and  Pauline  don't  talk 
so  much  now,  and  Fritz  does  n't  eat  so  much.  We 
are  all  getting  tired.  My  back  aches. 

229 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Annie  stands  up.  She  puts  her  hands  on  her 
sides,  and  bends  back,  and  grunts.  She  says :  "  It 's 
all  vat  I  can  do  to  stand  up,  yet.  I  bet  you  I  am 
so  lame  to-morrow  I  can'd  valk  no  more." 

We  get  through  a  little  after  four.  Annie  and 
Pauline  have  their  pails  full.  The  berries  look  fine 
with  the  bright  tin  all  around. 

It  takes  me  a  long  time  to  carry  all  the  cases. 
There  are  twelve  on  the  cellar  bottom  when  I  get 
through.  Jim  helps  me  carry  the  last. 

When  we  come  up  out  of  the  cellar,  my  father  and 
Ernest  are  sharpening  the  scythe.  My  father  is 
turning.  We  stand  and  watch  them.  Ernest  bears 
down  hard,  and  holds  the  scythe  there  a  long  time 
without  stopping.  When  he  lifts  it  up,  my  father 
says:  "I  declare!  This  just  takes  the  tuck  out 
o'  me." 

Jim  says:     "  Le'  me  turn  a  while.     Will  you?" 

My  father  says :  "  You  sure  you  want  to  ?  It 's 
pretty  hard  work,  even  if  it  does  look  easy." 

Jim  says :     "  Oh,  I  like  to  turn." 

Ernest   says :     "  All  right,  den.     Come   ahead." 

It  does  n't  take  long  to  finish.  Jim  puffs  quite  a 
while  after  they  stop.  We  go  to  the  woodshed 
door,  and  my  father  pays  him. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  guess  you  '11  have  time  to 
run  down  before  supper  and  see  if  there  's  a  letter. 
Maybe  we  '11  hear  from  them  to-day.  It 's  over  a 
month  now." 

230 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

After  chores,  my  father  takes  the  lamp  and  goes 
down  to  see  the  berries.  He  says:  "By  jolly, 
that 's  as  fine  a  lot  o'  berries  as  I  ever  saw !  They 
ought  to  sell  like  everything." 


£43 


XL 

My  Father  and  I  Take  the  Berries  to  the  Village 

MY  father  tells  Ernest  he  can  bring  the  horses 
around  as  soon  as  he  wants  to.  He  says : 
"  You  need  n't  put  any  oats  in.  We  're  gettin' 
started  early  enough  to  get  back  for  dinner.  I  guess 
we'll  be  able  to  finish  the  hay  this  afternoon." 

We  go  down  cellar,  and  begin  to  bring  up  the  ber 
ries.  We  set  them  by  the  woodshed  door. 

My  mother  says  to  my  father :  "  You  better  fix 
up,  just  a  little  bit.  You  don't  want  to  go  looking 
too  ragged.  They  '11  think  you  ain't  got  any  one  to 
take  care  of  you.  And  you  know  there  's  a  good 
many  of  'em  that  know  us." 

My  father  laughs.  He  says :  "  Oh,  don't  you 
worry  about  me!  I  '11  be  all  right." 

My  mother  makes  me  put  my  shoes  on,  and  a  col 
lar,  and  brush  my  hair.  I  never  like  shoes.  To 
day  they  are  worse  than  ever,  because  I  have  a  sore 
heel.  I  ran  a  sliver  into  it  yesterday,  and  it  was 
hard  getting  it  out. 

Ernest  drives  up  to  the  door  with  the  light  wagon. 
They  set  the  cases  in,  and  put  a  spread  over  them. 

233 


My  father  takes  the 
Anything  you 


We  climb  up  onto  the  seat, 
lines. 

My  father  says  to  my  mother: 
want  me  to  bring?  " 

My  mother  says:  "Well,  we're  just  about  out 
of  sugar.  And  I  s'pose  you  might  as  well  get  a  sack 
of  flour  this  time  as  next  —  unless  you  calculate  to 
go  to  mill  soon.  Get  the  patent." 

My  father  is  just  going  to  start  the  old  mares. 


Ernest  says:  "Vat  should  I  do  till  }-ou  git  back? 
Vill  I  hoe  —  or  do  you  vant  me  to  shake  dat  clofer 
oud  agin?  " 

My  father  thinks  a  while.  He  says :  "  Well,  I 
guess  you  might  hoe  in  the  corn  till  about  ten,  and 
then  shake  out  the  clover,  if  the  dew  's  good  and  off. 
Then  it  '11  be  sure  to  be  ready  for  us  to  get  in  right 
after  dinner." 

234 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

He  thinks.  He  says :  *'  If  we  should  happen  to 
be  home  late,  you  might  hitch  up  the  old  Colonel 
and  run  through  the  new  strawberry  patch." 

My  father  jerks  on  the  lines.  The  old  mares 
start.  We  go  past  the  pieplant  and  along  the  as 
paragus,  and  into  the  road.  When  we  are  just  turn 
ing  out,  my  mother  comes  out  onto  the  veranda  in 
front  and  calls  out :  "  And  a  cake  o'  compressed 
yeast ! " 

My  father  says  to  me :  "  What 's  that  she  said?  " 
My  mother  stands  there  till  she  sees  me  tell  him. 

We  go  by  Bradley's  this  time,  and  take  the  South 
Plank.  We  turn  to  the  right.  When  we  go  to  Aunt 
Caty's,  we  always  turn  to  the  left  here. 

My  father  says  :  "  I  kind  o'  like  to  come  this  way, 
'cause  the  Plank  's  almost  always  better  goin'.  But 
we  '11  go  back  the  other  way.  'T  ain't  near  so  steep. 
Bradley's  hill  is  a  long  pull,  even  without  a  load." 

We  go  past  old  Pinkman's,  and  then  cross  the 
bridge  over  Popple  Creek.  The  Creek  goes  into  the 
river.  My  father  says  he  supposes  we  ought  to  say 
"  Poplar."  I  always  look  for  poplar  trees,  but  they 
are  nearly  all  willows. 

Tip  and  I  walked  as  far  as  Pinkman's  once,  ped 
dling  seeds.  We  bought  some  crackers  and  sausage 
of  him.  It  was  three  miles,  and  we  only  sold  ten 
cents'  worth.  We  spent  it  all  for  the  sausage  and 
crackers. 

Soon  the  road  forks.  We  leave  the  Plank  and  go 
235 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

past  Tommy  Allis's  up  a  hill.  From  the  top  we  can 
see  the  steeples  in  the  Village.  We  can  see  the  Beth 
any  House,  too.  It  has  hundreds  of  rooms.  My 
father  says  to  stay  there  a  week  would  take  all  the 
money  he  could  save  in  a  year. 

It  is  six  miles  to  the  Village,  and  Town  is  twelve, 
only  in  the  other  direction. 

The  Village  is  a  summer  resort  place.  They  have 
springs,  and  they  say  the  water  cures  almost  every 
thing  that  can  ail  you. 

My  father  says  there  's  a  good  deal  of  humbug 
about  it.  He  says :  "  Lots  o'  good  pure  water  is 
good  for  anybody.  I  believe  that 's  all  it  is,  after 
all." 

The  old  mares  have  been  going  so  slow  up  the  long 
hill  that  they  forget  to  start  again.  They  act  al 
most  asleep.  My  father  whistles  at  them,  and  jerks 
on  the  lines. 

He  says :  "  Still,  they  say  it 's  done  wonders  for 
some  people."  He  flicks  the  old  mares.  Old  Judy 
switches  her  tail  and  shakes  her  head. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  if  we  get  near  Siloam 
on  our  rounds  to-day,  we  '11  have  you  try  some  o' 
the  water.  Maybe  it  '11  cure  your  heel.  Who 
knows  ? " 

I  don't  quite  know  whether  my  father  really  means 
it. 

There  is  a  marsh,  and  then  a  slaughter  house.  It 
has  a  terrible  smell. 

236 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONIC'LE 

My  father  says :  "  That 's  where  the  meat  men 
come  out  to  kill  their  critters." 

At  the  Court  House,  we  turn.  I  know  we  are  go 
ing  to  stop  at  the  James's.  I  know  most  of  the 
places. 

My  father  pulls  up.  He  says :  "  Who-o-oa !  " 
He  says  to  me :  "  All  right !  You  run  in  and  see  if 
they  want  any  to-day." 

I  don't  want  to.  I  feel  bashful.  I  say :  "  No, 
you !  I  'd  rather  hold  the  lines." 

My  father  says:  "  Oh  pshaw!"  He  hands  me 
the  lines.  He  says :  "  I  wish  you  'd  get  so  you 
wa'n't  quite  so  'fraid  o'  folks."  He  starts  around  to 
the  back  door. 

After  awhile,  they  come  out  of  the  front  door. 
Mrs.  James  says :  "  How  much  are  they  this  morn 
ing?  Are  they  nice?  "  She  puts  her  spectacles  on. 

My  father  lifts  up  the  spread.  He  says :  "  Ten 
cents.  A  dollar  and  a  half  a  case.  There  ain't  an 
inferior  berry  among  'em." 

Mrs.  James  says :  "  Well,  anyway,  you  have 
your  boxes  good  and  full." 

My  father  says :  "  I  calculate  to  give  my  cus 
tomers  their  money's  worth."  I  know  he  likes  to 
have  her  say  that.  He  says :  "  They  'd  look  fuller 
yet,  but  they  always  shake  down  quite  a  little,  com 
ing  so  far." 

Mrs.  James  says :  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  might  as 
well  do  my  canning  now  as  any  time.  They  won't  be 

237  " 


any  cheaper,  will  they?  And  they  're  such  nice 
ones."  She  lifts  one  of  the  top  boxes  up,  and  looks 
at  the  one  under  it. 

My  father  says :  "  You  '11  find  'em  just  the  same 
everywhere,  top  and  bottom.  And  you  '11  find 
they're  just  as  big  in  the  bottoms  o'  the  boxes  as 
anywhere,  too." 

Mrs.  James  says :  "  I  don't  doubt  it  a  bit."  She 
takes  her  spectacles  off. 

She  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  have  —  well,  let 's 
see  —  yes,  I  '11  take  three  crates.  We  do  love  straw 
berry  sauce ! " 

We  go  the  rounds.  At  the  Bethany  House  they 
happen  to  be  out  of  berries,  and  take  two  bushels. 
The  Bethany  House  holds  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
people,  but  it  is  n't  very  full  yet. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  at  that  rate  we  '11  soon 
be  rid  of  'em  all." 

We  come  to  Siloam  Spring.  My  father  pulls  up 
on  the  lines.  He  says :  "  Now 's  your  chance ! 
Run  down  and  drink  all  you  can,  and  we  '11  see  what 
it  does." 

I  run  down  to  the  spring  and  drink  two  or  three 
glasses  full.  It  is  under  a  sort  of  roof  with  pillars. 
The  water  boils  up  out  of  some  nice,  clean  gravel. 

When  I  come  back,  my  father  says :  "  Feel  any 
different  yet?  " 

I  say :  "  Oh,  I  don't  know."  I  think  maybe  he  is 
making  believe. 

238 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

At  the  last,  we  have  a  case  and  a  half  left.  We 
stop  at  a  grocery.  My  father  says :  "  Le'  's  see  if 
Rolfe  don't  want  to  take  'em  off  our  hands." 

Rolfe  comes  out  and  looks  at  the  berries.  He 
says  he  '11  give  eight  cents.  My  father  says  all  right. 
We  get  the  flour,  and  some  sugar,  and  the  yeast,  and 
start  for  home. 

My  father  says :  "  You  see  that 's  the  way  it  is. 
They  always  give  two  cents  less  at  the  groceries." 
He  says :  "  Of  course,  it  would  save  time  if  I  sold 
'em  all  that  way.  I  could  just  drive  up  and  leave 
'em,  and  go  home  and  go  to  work  again." 

He  flicks  the  old  mares.  He  says :  "  But  I  'd 
always  be  getting  two  cents  less,  and  on  a  good  loud 
it  amounts  to  three  or  four  dollars.  We  might  as 
well  be  getting  that  money  as  someone  else." 

\Ve  go  back  by  the  river  road.  It  is  level  and 
winding,  and  you  never  know  what  is  coming  next. 
That  's  why  I  like  it  better  than  the  other.  My 
father  likes  it  because  it  is  level.  It  is  level  all  ex 
cept  when  we  are  almost  home.  Then  there  is  the 
big  hill  where  it  goes  up  past  the  woods. 

On  the  way  out  of  the  Village,  we  go  past  the  dam. 
Once  I  teased  my  father  to  go  fishing  there.  The 
water  boiled  and  foamed.  We  got  a  few,  and  then 
our  hooks  got  caught.  My  father  said :  "  Con 
demn  it,  there  it  is !  "  He  rolled  up  his  pants  and 
waded  in.  I  was  afraid  they  would  laugh  at  him. 
When  he  got  the  hooks  unfastened,  he  said: 

239 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

"  There,  I  hope  you  're  satisfied  now.  Take  your 
fish  and  come  along !  " 

It  is  hot  on  the  way  home.  The  old  mares  sweat. 
There  is  thick,  white  foam  on  their  sides  where  the 
tugs  rub. 

Dinner  is  just  ready  when  we  get  there.  My 
mother  comes  to  the  door.  She  says :  "  I  thought 
it  was  about  time  you  got  here."  My  father  begins 
to  take  the  flour  and  things  out. 

Ernest  comes  and  gets  the  horses.  I  jump  down 
and  go  into  the  house.  My  father  says :  "  Well,  I 
declare !  He  don't  limp  at  all  now !  That 's  what 
Siloam  water  '11  do  for  sore  heels." 

My  heel  does  feel  nice  and  warm  and  comfortable, 
but  I  don't  know  whether  my  father  really  means 
that  the  water  did  it  or  not. 


240 


XLI 

/  Break  the  Old  Hen's  Leg,  and  We  Pick 
Raspberries 

THE  black  raspberries  are  almost  gone,  and  the 
red  ones  are  getting  ripe.     There  is  a  patch  of 
red  ones  down  in  the  orchard.     The  black  ones  are 
next  to  the  strawberry  bed. 

I  leave  the  pickers,  and  carry  a  case  of  berries  to 
the  house.  I  take  it  down  cellar.  I  come  up  again, 
and  start  for  the  barn.  I  have  to  make  some  more 
boxes. 

When  I  come  out  of  the  woodshed  door,  I  can  see 
them  picking.  Some  of  them  are  standing  up,  and 
some  are  sitting  on  their  knees  in  the  straw.  I  can 
just  see  their  sunbonnets  over  the  bushes.  I  can 
hear  them  talking,  but  not  so  I  know  what  they  say. 

The  barn  is  full  of  timothy  hay.  They  are  stack 
ing  the  rest  outside  the  door.  There  is  a  round 
stack-bottom  there,  all  made  of  stones. 

The  ground  is  covered  with  the  hay  that  drops  off 
the  sides  when  Ernest  pitches.  The  barn  floor  has  a 
lot  scattered  over  it,  too.  It  is  a  warm  day.  The 
hay  smell  is  strong. 

241 


A  COUNTRY  CHRCWICLE 

I  go  down  in  the  basement  and  wet  the  box-stuff  in 
the  tub  by  the  pump,  and  come  back  and  get  up  on 
the  barrel.  I  have  to  make  sixteen  boxes,  because  I 
must  fill  one  case.  I  can't  make  them  as  fast  as  my 
father.  My  brother  could  make  them  faster  than 
anybody. 

There  is  an  old  hen  cackling  over  near  the  end 
door.  She  steps  around  with  her  head  sticking  up 
and  turned  on  one  side,  looking  at  me  and  squawking. 

I  don't  like  the  hen's  noise.  I  stop  hammering 
and  say :  "  Sh-h-h-h,  you  old  fool !  " 

The  old  hen  keeps  on  squawking.  I  say  again : 
"Sh-h-h!  Sh-h-h-h!"  She  does  n't  stop.  It  makes 
me  mad.  By  and  by  I  yell :  "  Sh-h-h !  Get  out  o' 
here  with  your  noise !  " 

The  old  hen  goes  out  a  few  steps.  Pretty  soon 
she  comes  back  again.  She  cackles  and  squawks 
worse  than  ever. 

Before  long  she  makes  me  so  mad  I  jump  down  and 
pick  up  a  stick  and  let  it  fly  at  her. 

The  old  hen  jumps  and  squawks,  but  the  stick  hits 
her.  She  limps  and  slides  along  the  floor  a  little 
way,  and  then  lies  there  half  on  her  side.  She  can't 
get  up. 

I  am  sorry  I  hit  her.  I  go  and  try  to  make  her 
get  up  and  walk,  but  she  won't.  She  just  lies  there, 
with  her  bill  open,  and  bobbing  her  head.  She  looks 
all  right,  but  she  does  n't  get  up. 

I  go  on  with  the  boxes,  but  I  don't  feel  comforta- 


ble.  I  hope  the  old  hen  will  be  all  right  before  my 
father  finds  out. 

They  drive  up  with  a  load.  My  father  looks  in  at 
me  from  the  top  of  the  load.  He  says :  "  How  you 
gettin'  along  with  the  berries?  " 

I  say :  "  We  're  pretty  near  through  down  by  the 
road." 

My  father  sees  the  old  hen.  He  says :  "  What 's 
that  hen  lay  in'  there  for?  What's  the  matter  with 
her?" 

I  look  at  my  father,  and  then  I  look  away.  I 
say :  "  Oh,  she  was  squawkin',  and  I  got  mad  and 
threw  a  stick  at  her." 

My  father  says :  "  Ex-actly,  ex-actly  !  You  're 
always  gettin'  mad  and  smashin'  something  or 
other !  " 

My  father  gets  down  off  the  load.  He  swings 
down  from  the  standard  at  the  front  end.  He  steps 
onto  one  of  the  old  mares  first,  and  then  down  onto 
the  tongue.  The  old  mare  lays  her  ears  down,  and 
humps  up  a  little.  She  shakes  her  head. 

My  father  goes  up  to  the  hen.  He  rolls  her  over. 
She  moves  a  little,  and  tries  to  get  away,  but  she 
can't.  She  lies  still  again.  One  of  her  legs  just 
drags. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  you  've  broke  her  leg, 
so  I  s'pose  you  're  satisfied.  A  good  layin'  hen, 
too !  " 

He  picks  the  old  hen  up,  and  goes  out.  He  says : 
243 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  there  's  only  one  thing  to  do  about 
it." 

He  takes  her  down  toward  the  wood  pile,  where  the 
ax  is.  He  does  n't  look  at  me. 

I  pack  the  boxes  in  the  case,  and  go  back  to  the 
berry  patch.  It  is  so  late  now  that  there  are  hardly 
any  green  ones,  except  where  we  come  to  a  bush  of 
Mammoth  Clusters.  They  are  always  later. 

On  the  other  bushes,  we  have  to  be  careful  to  look 
under  the  leaves  and  branches.  Sometimes  there  are 
great  big  clusters  in  there.  We  get  our  hands 
scratched.  The  backs  of  mine  are  all  criss-crossed 
with  red  streaks. 

We  get  through  with  the  black  raspberries.  I 
take  the  case  down  cellar,  and  we  go  to  the  patch  of 
red  ones  in  the  orchard.  This  will  be  the  first  pick 
ing  there. 

On  the  way  down,  we  go  by  the  old  red-apple  tree. 
It  makes  me  think  of  my  brother.  He  always  boosts 
me  up,  and  has  me  shake  the  apples  down.  There 
are  some  getting  red  enough  now.  I  wish  my 
brother  were  here. 

The  red  raspberry  bushes  stand  up  straight. 
They  have  a  great  many  more  green  leaves.  They 
don't  spread  like  the  black  raspberry  bushes,  and 
they  don't  have  thorns. 

The  berries  are  big  and  red.  When  they  are  dead 
ripe  they  are  almost  purple.  You  have  to  pick  them 
mostly  one  by  one.  They  don't  come  off  in  twos  and 

244 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

threes,  like  the  black  ones.  And  you  have  to  learn 
to  tell  by  the  looks  whether  they  are  ripe  enough  or 
not.  When  you  look  back,  you  see  all  the  little 
round  white  things  the  berries  came  off  of. 

Annie  says :  "  Dey  ain't  so  many  prickers  on  de 
red  rawsberrics  as  what  dey  iss  on  de  black,  but 
yoost  de  same  I  vould  radder  pick  dose  black  vones." 

Pauline  says :  "  Ennahow,  you  don't  haf  to 
stoop  ofer  so  much  vit  dose  red  vones." 

Annie  says :  "  Dat  *s  all  right.  You  can  like  de 
red  vones  uv  you  vant  to,  but  I  vould  n't  pick  'em 
vidout  I  had  to." 

Pauline  says :  "  Veil,  ut  don't  make  any  difference 
vich  you  vould  radder  pick.  Ve  got  to  pick  dese  here 
yoost  de  same,  vedder  ve  vant  to  or  not.  So  vot  's 
de  use  to  kick?  " 


245 


XLII 

My  Mother  Hears  from  Dora  That  My  Brother 
and  Edie  Are  There 

THEY  drive  up  with  a  load  of  oats  and  stop  by 
the  barnyard  gate.  They  are  making  the 
stacks  there  this  year.  My  father  and  Ernest  start 
toward  the  well.  I  see  them  coming,  and  run  and 
draw  up  a  bucket  of  water. 

My  father  says  to  me :  "  Been  down  after  the 
mail  yet  ?  " 

I  say :  "  No,  I  had  to  finish  the  berries.  We  just 
got  through  with  'em.  I  'm  goin'  right  away." 

My  father  says :  "  Will  there  be  another  pickin' 
o'  the  black  ones,  do  you  s'pose  ?  " 

I  say :  "  Oh,  there  '11  be  a  few  quarts,  but  not 
many." 

I  start  off.  My  father  says :  "  Hurry  back !  I 
s'pose  we  '11  be  havin'  supper  as  soon  as  we  get  this 
load  off." 

I  run  down  to  the  store.  Mr.  White  says: 
"  Nothin'  but  one  letter,  and  the  Patriot.  But  the 
Patriot  don't  count.  It 's  a  wonder  your  father 
would  n't  take  a  decent  paper.  Any  paper  't  11  sup 
port  Garfield  's  'way  behind  the  times." 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Mr.  White  is  always  talking  that  way.  My  father 
says  it  '11  be  a  long  time  before  any  democrat  stands 
the  ghost  of  a  show  for  president. 

I  don't  pay  much  attention  to  what  Mr.  White 
says.  I  am  used  to  it.  I  look  at  the  letter  to  see 
whether  it  is  in  my  brother's  writing.  That 's  al 
ways  the  first  thing  we  do,  ever  since  they  ran  away. 
Edie's  mother  is  always  expecting  one  in  Edie's  writ 
ing. 

I  can  tell  right  away  that  the  letter  is  n't  from 
either  of  them.  It  looks  like  Dora's  writing.  Dora 
is  my  mother's  cousin.  She  lives  at  Pleasant  View. 
When  I  look  at  the  post  mark,  I  can  make  it  out. 

I  run  back  home.  They  are  just  sitting  down  to 
supper.  As  soon  as  I  come  in,  my  mother  says: 
"Got  any  letters?" 

I  say :  "  Only  one  from  Dora.  I  guess  it 's  from 
her."  " 

I  lay  the  letter  on  the  table  by  my  mother's  plate. 
She  says :  "  Well,  come  on,  and  have  your  sup 
per!" 

She  takes  the  letter  up  and  looks  it  over.  Then 
she  lays  it  down.  She  says :  "  I  '11  save  it  till  we 
are  through,  and  I  can  enjoy  it  better." 

After  Ernest  is  through  and  goes  out,  my  father 
sits  a  few  minutes.  My  mother  leans  back  in  her 
chair,  and  picks  up  the  letter.  She  says :  "  Well,  I 
wonder  what  Dora  '11  have  to  say."  She  says  to  me : 
"  Run  and  get  me  the  scissors,  and  I  '11  open  it." 

247 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  get  up.  My  father  says :  "  Edie's  mother  been 
down  yet  to-day?  *' 

I  come  back  with  the  scissors.  My  mother  says : 
"  Not  yet.  But  I  expect  her  any  minute.  And  I 
s'pose  we  '11  all  go  over  the  same  things  we  been  going 
over  every  day  the  last  six  weeks." 

My  father  says :  "  Ex-actly !  I  declare  I  've 
got  so  I  dread  her  every  minute  o'  the  day  till  she  's 
been  here.  She  seems  to  think  somehow  we  can  do 
something,  but  I  don't  see  how  we  can  help  matters 
any." 

My  mother  says :  "  Serves  her  right  for  taking 
things  the  way  she  did.  If  she  'd  only  known  enough 
to  just  let  'cm  be!  " 

My  mother  takes  the  scissors.  She  taps  the  letter 
on  the  end,  and  holds  it  up  toward  the  window.  She 
wants  to  make  sure  and  not  cut  the  writing  part  in 
side.  Then  she  cuts  a  little  strip  off  from  the  end 
where  the  stamp  is.  She  cuts  it  so  that  it  does  n't 
take  anything  off  the  stamp.  She  always  opens  her 
letters  just  like  that. 

My  mother  takes  the  letter  out  of  the  envelope. 
She  says :  "  My  !  Quite  a  long  letter  this  time !  " 

She  unfolds  it,  and  begins  to  read.  My  father 
and  I  look  at  her  face.  We  think  maybe  she  is  going 
to  read  it  out  loud. 

All  of  a  sudden  my  mother  sits  up  straight  and 
says:  "What!" 

She  reads  a  little  more.  She  jumps  up  and  waves 
248 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

the  letter  over  her  head,  and  calls  out :  "  Well,  Hi, 
what  do-o  you  think,  the  lost  are  found!  As  sure 
as  you  're  alive,  the  lost  are  found !  " 

My  father  and  I  jump  up.  My  father  says: 
"  My  stars  !  you  don't  say  so !  "  He  runs  around  to 
where  my  mother  is.  She  begins  to  read  again,  and 
he  looks  over  her  shoulder. 

I  get  up  on  my  tiptoes,  but  I  can't  see  the  writing. 
I  say :  "  Where  are  they,  huh  ?  Where  are  they  ? 
Are  they  at  Dora's  ?  " 

My  mother  says :  "  Yes,  they  're  at  Dora's,  the 
Lord  be  thanked !  " 

They  both  stop  reading,  and  I  stand  and  wait  for 
them  to  say  something  more. 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  well,  well,  well !  If  that 
don't  beat  all !  " 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  did  you  ever !  "  Once 
in  a  while  she  stops  and  laughs,  and  doubles  up  the 
hand  with  the  letter  in  it  and  strikes  it  against  her 
leg.  Then  they  read  some  more. 

My  mother  has  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  says :  "  I 
don't  know  but  pretty  soon  I  '11  have  a  fit,  if  I  keep 
on  feeling  this  way  !  " 

I  hear  someone  out  on  the  gravel  walk.  Then 
there  is  a  step  on  the  veranda.  Then  there  is  a 
knock  on  the  mosquito-netting  door. 

My  father  says :  "  There !  I  '11  warrant  you 
there  she  is  again !  " 

My  mother  says  to  me :  "  You  go  to  the  door, 
250 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Bug."     She  puts   the  letter  in   her   apron   pocket. 

My  father  says :  "  And  then  you  can  run  and  tell 
Ernest  I  won't  be  out  till  after  a  little." 

I  can  see  Edie's  mother  through  the  mosquito-net 
ting  door.  She  is  standing  sideways.  She  has  her 
black  straw  hat  on,  the  one  with  the  green  leaves  and 
the  smooth  red  berries. 


251 


XLIII 

Edie's  Mother  Comes  Down  Just  After  the 
Letter  Has  Been  Read 

I   CAN  see  Edie's  mother  begin  to  turn  a  little  when 
she  hears  me  coming.     I  open  the  door.      She 
looks  at  me,  and  says :     "  Is  your  father  or  mother 
at  home?  " 

I  say :  "  Yes,  they  're  right  here.  Won't  you 
come  in  ?  " 

She  says :     "  Yes,  I  think  I  will,  just  a  minute." 

My  mother  is  just  coming  through  the  door  from 
the  kitchen.  She  has  her  hand  in  her  pocket,  hold 
ing  the  letter. 

Edie's  mother  starts  to  say :  "  I  thought  I  'd  step 
in  on  my  way  by  and  see  if  you  'd  heard  anything  to 
day."  That  is  what  she  always  says. 

She  does  n't  have  time  to  say  it  all.  My  mother 
takes  the  letter  out  and  waves  it,  and  says :  "  Well, 
the  mystery  's  solved !  The  lost  are  found !  " 

Edie's  mother  stops  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  She  says :  "  Is  it  really  so  ?  Are  you  tell 
ing  me  the  truth?  "  Her  eyes  open  wide.  She  be 
gins  to  get  red.  She  does  n't  know  what  to  do. 

252 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says:  "No  mistake  about  it!  You 
can  rest  easy." 

My  mother  says:  "Yes,  they're  found,  just  as 
sure  as  you  live,  and  they  're  all  right.  You  need  n't 
worry  any  more." 

Edie's  mother  tries  to  smile.  It  seems  as  if  she 
could  n't.  Her  face  is  ever  so  red.  She  says : 
"  Are  they  married  ?  " 

My  mother  says :  "  Yres,  they  're  married,  of 
course  they  're  married !  I  knew  they  were  married 
all  the  time.  They  're  at  Dora's." 

Edie's  mother  gets  redder  than  ever.  She  waits  a 
little  while,  and  kind  of  fidgets.  She  says :  "  Docs 
the  letter  say  when?  Were  they  married  right 
away  ? " 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  you  need  n't  worry,  it 's 
all  right.  Yes,  they  were  married  right  away." 

Edie's  mother  looks  as  if  she  did  n't  feel  quite 
sure.  She  says :  "  Well,  of  course  I  don't  doubt 
your  word,  but  I  don't  see  how  anybody  would  marry 
'em  in  this  state.  She  was  n't  old  enough." 

My  mother  says :  "  They  did  n't  get  married  in 
this  state.  Oh,  you  need  n't  think  I  don't  know ! 
It 's  just  as  I  tell  you.  They  left  here  on  the  mid 
night  train,  and  went  to  Town  and  took  the  first 
train  south.  They  got  across  the  line  and  were 
married  before  noon  the  next  day." 

My  father  says :  "  So  you  've  had  a  lot  of  worry 
all  for  nothing." 

253 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Edie's  mother  does  n't  say  anything.  She  just 
stands  there. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  declare !  I  've  been  almost 
out  of  patience  with  you  sometimes!  I  think  you 
might  have  had  a  little  more  faith  in  'em  —  and  a 
little  more  in  us,  too." 

Edie's  mother  takes  her  handkerchief  out.  She 
begins  to  wipe  her  eyes.  She  says :  "  You  must  n't 
be  too  hard  on  me.  You  know  I  'm  alone  without  a 
husband,  and  Edie  was  only  a  little  girl." 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  anyway,  it 's  all  over 
now."  He  stops  and  scratches  his  head.  He  says: 
"  At  least,  the  worst  of  it 's  over." 

Edie's  mother  says :  "  But  where  have  they  been 
all  this  time?  Does  it  say  anything  about  their  com 
ing  home  ?  I  s'pose  you  '11  let  me  read  the  letter  my 
self  after  a  while,  won't  you?  " 

My  mother  says:  "Why,  of  course!  We  just 
got  it  a  half  an  hour  ago,  and  we  've  hardly  read 
it  ourselves  yet.  They  staid  a  while  in  the  place 
where  they  got  married,  to  earn  enough  to  go  to 
Dora's." 

My  mother  stops,  and  says :  "  But  let 's  go  over 
the  letter  again  together,  and  then  you  '11  know  just 
what  it  says." 

They  read  the  letter  together.  My  brother  and 
Edie  staid  a  month  in  the  other  state,  and  then  went 
to  Dora's.  They  got  there  one  night.  Dora  was 
sitting  by  the  window  with  her  crochet  work,  and  she 

254 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

heard  a  rap  at  the  door.  She  opened  the  door,  and 
there  they  stood. 

My  mother  reads  what  Dora  says  in  the  letter. 
She  says :  "  Here  's  the  way  she  writes  it :  *  You 
could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather !  I  never 
was  so  surprised  in  all  my  born  days !  I  had  them 
come  right  in,  and  got  them  a  good  meal.  The  first 
thing  I  asked  was  whether  you  knew  where  they  were. 
As  soon  as  I  could,  I  sat  right  down  to  write.' ' 

My  mother  says :  "  They  're  going  to  stay  there 
for  a  while,  and  Speckle  is  going  to  work  on  Dora's 
farm.  They  don't  know  yet  what  they  '11  do  next." 

My  father  says :  "  There,  now,  you  see  it  ain't  so 
bad  as  you  thought  it  was." 

Edie's  mother  says :  "  No,  it  is  n't !  That 's 
true." 

Then  she  says :  "  But  I  sha'n't  feel  easy  until 
they  are  back  where  I  can  see  them  with  my  own 
eyes." 

Edie's  mother  gets  up  to  go.  She  says :  "  Would 
you  mind  letting  me  read  the  letter  as  soon  as  you  've 
read  it  again?  I  '11  send  Johnnie  down  for  it." 

My  mother  says :  "  Oh,  take  it  now.  You  can 
send  it  back  when  you  're  done  with  it." 

Edie's  mother  goes  out.  My  father  says: 
"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  blame  her,  after  all.  It 
was  an  awful  foolish  thing  to  do." 

My  mother  stands  looking  at  the  carpet.  She 
says :  "  Won't  there  be  some  way  to  have  'em  come 

255 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

home  before  long?  Could  n't  he  work  for  you,  don't 
you  s'pose  ?  " 

My  father  leans  in  the  door  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  He  says :  "  There  's  no  tellin'  what  we 
will  do.  It  looks  now  as  if  he  'd  stay  down  there  till 
fall,  though,  don't  it?" 

He  stands  there  a  while.  Then  he  puts  on  his  hat. 
He  says :  "  There  's  one  thing  I  do  know,  and  that 
is,  that  stack 's  got  to  be  topped  off  to-night. 
There  's  every  sign  o'  rain." 

My  father  goes  out.  He  stoops  a  little,  and  his 
arms  swing.  The  way  he  stoops  makes  his  arms 
seem  long. 

My  mother  sits  down  at  the  secretary  desk.  She 
says :  "  I  must  send  them  a  letter  right  off,  and  tell 
them  we  're  glad  they  're  found."  She  says  to  me : 
"  And  you  must  take  it  down  to  the  office." 


256 


XLIV 

My  Father  and  Uncle  Anthony  Cultivate  Corn, 
and  Stop  to  Talk 

MY  father  is  cultivating  the  corn  along  the  road 
up  near  the  lane.  This  will  be  the  last  time. 
The  corn  is  getting  too  big  to  work  in.  The  old 
mare  has  a  peach  basket  tied  over  her  nose.  The 
corn  is  so  high  she  could  nip  it  if  she  did  n't  have  the 
basket. 

My  father  says :  "  It 's  a  good  thing  for  corn  to 
have  the  ground  stirred  pretty  often.  And  then,  it 
roots  up  the  late  weeds." 

My  father  keeps  saying :  "  Gee !  "  and  "  Haw  !  " 
He  has  the  lines  around  his  shoulders.  One  is  over 
his  right  shoulder,  and  the  other  is  under  his  left. 
There  is  a  big  knot  where  they  are  tied  together  be 
hind  his  back. 

The  old  mare  does  n't  want  to  walk  straight  be 
tween  the  rows.  I  say :  "  Shall  I  ride  her,  so  she  '11 
go  straighter?  " 

My  father  says :  "  I  don't  know  but  you  might, 
for  a  while.  Of  course  't  ain't  really  necessary,  but 
maybe  it  '11  be  easier  for  me." 

257 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  lifts  me  up  until  I  can  get  one  foot  on 
the  tug,  near  the  belly-band.  I  get  hold  of  the  ring 
where  one  of  the  lines  goes,  and  get  on.  He  fixes  the 
lines  in  the  ring,  but  leaves  them  so  I  can  hold  them 
to  drive  with. 

The  old  mare's  back  is  too  big  for  me.  When  she 
starts,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  going  to  roll  off.  I  catch 
hold  of  the  hames  and  hold  on  to  them  until  I  get 
used  to  it.  Then  the  back-pad  bothers,  so  I  have  to 
put  my  feet  on  the  tugs  to  keep  myself  off  it.  The 
tops  of  the  corn  rub  against  my  feet,  and  tickle. 

When  we  turn  at  the  end  of  the  row,  it  makes  me 
think  of  the  steamboats  in  the  river,  in  Town.  The 
old  mare  is  so  slow  she  hardly  moves. 

When  she  goes  along  between  the  rows,  the  old 
mare  is  always  forgetting  the  peach  basket,  and 
stopping  to  try  a  nip  at  the  corn.  Every  time  she 
tries  it  and  does  n't  get  any,  she  switches  her  tail. 
Once  she  whinners,  and  makes  me  jump.  She  heard 
her  colt,  up  in  the  barnyard. 

Uncle  Anthony  is  cultivating,  too,  in  his  lot  across 
the  road.  We  get  to  the  road  fence  just  as  he  does. 
His  horse  has  a  peach  basket  on,  too. 

Uncle  Anthony  stops  cultivating,  and  comes  and 
leans  on  the  top  rail  of  his  fence.  My  father  leans 
on  the  top  rail  of  ours.  They  begin  to  talk  to  each 
other  across  the  road. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  I  see  you  got  your 
oats  all  up  in  the  stack.  I  finished  gettin'  mine  in 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

yesterday.  Pretty  heavy  stand  o'  straw,  was 
they?" 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  I  calculate  it  '11  keep  'em 
busy  behind  the  straw-carrier  this  year." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :     "  Goin'  to  thrash  early  ?  " 

My  father  says:  "Oh,  just  middlin'.  I  got  it 
all  in  stacks  this  year,  and  I  'm  kind  o'  'fraid  they 
ain't  built  up  in  the  middle  as  much  as  they  might 
be.  I  hate  to  thrash  early,  but  I  'm  afraid  if  I  don't 
they  '11  wet  in  and  grow." 

Uncle  Anthony  says:  "They  ain't  nothin'  like 
toppin'  'em  out  with  a  jag  o'  hay  from  the  ma'sh, 
an'  let  it  hang  down." 

If  my  mother  were  here  and  heard  Uncle  Anthony 
say  "  ma'sh,"  she  would  have  a  hard  time  to  keep 
from  laughing. 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  I  know.  I  s'pose  't  is 
all  right  for  sheddin'  water.  But  I  don't  want  none 
o'  your  marsh  hay  for  feed.  There  's  nothin'  TO  it ! 
I  don't  want  marsh  grass,  and  I  don't  want  dent 
corn." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  I  don't  care  much  for 
dent  corn  myself.  I  'm  always  afraid  it  won't  git 
ripe  before  the  frost." 

Uncle  Anthony  straightens  up,  and  puts  his  hands 
on  the  fence  rail.  He  begins  to  climb  over. 

My  father  says :  "  That 's  right !  Come  on  over, 
and  be  sociable." 

Uncle  Anthony  walks  across  the  road  toward  us. 
259 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

His  vest  is  unbuttoned,  and  its  sides  hang  loose. 
The  stem  of  his  old  clay  pipe  sticks  out  of  one  pocket. 

It  takes  Uncle  Anthony  quite  a  while  to  get  to  our 
fence.  On  the  way,  he  stoops  a  little  and  pulls  up 
a  timothy  stem,  and  begins  to  pick  his  teeth  with  it. 
He  has  his  old  stained  black  hat  on. 

When  he  gets  almost  to  us,  he  says :  "  Yes 
might 's  well  let  the  old  mares  breathe  a  little.  It  '11 
be  good  for  'em,  and  't  won't  hurt  us,  neither." 

Uncle  Anthony  leans  on  the  rail  near  my  father. 
He  says :  "  Well,  have  you  come  to  any  under- 
standin'  about  your  boy  yet?  I  s'pose  your  wife 'd 
like  to  have  'em  come  back,  would  n't  she  —  and  you, 
too?  You  know  you  ort  n't  to  be  too  hard  on 
'em." 

My  father  looks  down  at  his  feet.  He  puts  one  of 
them  up  on  one  of  the  fence  rails.  He  says :  "  Yes, 
to  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  we  '11  be  glad  when  we 
have  'em  back.  It 's  been  kind  o'  lonesome  without 
the  boy." 

My  father  looks  around  at  me.  He  says :  "  You 
can  get  down,  if  you  want  to." 

I  say :     "  Oh,  I  guess  I  '11  sit  here." 

My  father  says :  "  I  'spect  it  '11  be  a  couple  o' 
months,  though.  He 's  hired  out  where  he  is  till 
about  that  time." 

They  stand  there  for  a  while  without  saying  any 
thing.  Uncle  Anthony  runs  the  timothy  stem 
through  his  teeth,  and  spits.  He  spits  with  a  loud 

260 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

noise.  Afterward  he  rubs  his  mouth  with  the  back 
of  his  hand. 

My  father  says :  "  I  '11  tell  you.  I  've  'bout 
made  up  my  mind  to  let  him  work  the  farm.  I  can 
keep  a  little  garden  patch,  and  let  him  run  the  rest 
and  make  what  he  can.  That  '11  at  least  give  him  a 
start." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :     "  I  think  that  'd  be  a  first 


rate  thing  to  do.  I  think  it  'd  be  good  for  both  of 
you." 

Uncle  Anthony  picks  his  teeth  some  more.  He 
says :  "  I  think  it 's  about  time  you  begun  to  take 
it  a  little  easier  'n  what  you  do." 

My  father  says :  "  I  don't  know  but  it  is.  I 
ain't  what  I  used  to  be,  that  ss  the  honest  truth  of 
it."  He  says :  "  Time  was  when  I  could  carry  a 
forty  rod  swathe  without  stoppin'  more  'n  a  couple 

261 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

o'  times  the  whole  way  across.  But  that  time  's  past, 
sure  's  you  live." 

Uncle  Anthony  spits  again.  It  makes  a  bigger 
noise  than  before.  He  says :  "  I  s'pose  you  'd  have 
him  work  it  on  shares,  would  n't  you?  " 

My  father  thinks  a  while.  He  says :  "  Yes,  I 
don'  know  but  I  would.  Could  n't  have  him  take  the 
risk  of  money  rent,  the  first  year  —  though  there 
ain't  really  any  risk.  'T  ain't  like  some  of  the  states 
where  you  can  never  be  sure  of  a  crop." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  You  're  right  about  that. 
Whatever  you  can  say  agin  our  state,  you  can't  say 
that  we  ain't  always  sure  o'  some  kind  of  a  crop." 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  Well,  I  think  you  '11  find 
the  boy  '11  do  mighty  well  by  you.  They  ain't  no 
question  but  they  's  a  good  deal  to  him.  O'  course 
it  'd  'a'  been  better  for  'em  to  'a'  waited  a  while,  but 
after  all,  a  boy  't  '11  stir  around  the  way  he  's  done 
this  summer  gittin'  married  and  findin'  a  way  to  sup 
port  a  wife  ain't  a-goin'  to  turn  out  bad." 

They  talk  a  while  about  politics,  and  then  Uncle 
Anthony  goes  back  It  takes  him  quite  a  while  to 
get  over  the  fence.  He  begins  to  cultivate  again. 

My  father  and  I  begin  again,  too.  I  am  tired  of 
sitting  on  the  old  mare.  She  has  been  trying  to  get 
the  peach  basket  off  by  rubbing  it  against  the  rails. 


262 


XLV 

Grandpa  Tyler  Jokes  My  Father  About  Hit 
Clothes 

THE  chores  are  done.  My  father  and  I  start 
down  after  the  mail.  My  mother  says: 
"  Don't  be  gone  too  long !  I  always  like  to  know 
whether  there  are  any  letters." 

My  father  goes  down  to  the  store  almost  every 
night  now.  He  says :  "  I  kind  o'  like  to  hear  what 
they  say  about  politics.  You  see  it  '11  be  'lection 
day  in  about  four  or  five  weeks.  Things  always  get 
interesting  about  this  time." 

I  say:  "  Will  Garfield  be  elected  president?  Mr. 
White  says  he  won't." 

My  father  says :  "  You  need  n't  pay  any  'ten- 
tion  to  what  he  says,  nor  any  other  democrat.  Gar- 
field 's  goin'  to  be  'lected  president  just  as  sure  as 
'lection  day  comes  !  " 

My  father  has  his  old  grey  slouch  hat  on,  and  the 
ragged  coat  my  mother  makes  fun  of. 

We  open  the  door  and  go  in.  Grandpa  Tyler  is 
there,  sitting  on  one  of  the  cracker  boxes.  Old 
Jerry  Dodge  is  there,  too,  and  Uncle  Anthony. 

Grandpa  Tyler  is  talking  when  we  come  in.  He 
263 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

stops,  and  looks  at  my  father.  He  says :  "  Well, 
here  he  is  agin ! "  He  looks  as  if  he  were  going  to 
joke.  He  says:  "White,  by  godfrey,  did  ye  ever 
see  such  a  ol'  ragamuffin  in  all  yer  life?  " 

He  says  to  my  father :  "  I  declare  to  goodness ! 
I  don't  see  how  you  dast  go  out  that  way !  I  should 
think  you  'd  be  'fraid  o'  gettin'  'rested." 

Everyone  begins  to  laugh.  My  father  laughs,  too. 
He  says :  "  Don't  you  worry  about  what  I  got  on. 
I  like  to  wear  my  old  clothes  out." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  I  must  say  he  can 
fix  up  when  he  wants  to,  anyhow.  When  he  gits  into 
that  broadcloth  coat  o'  hisn,  and  the  vest  with  the 
posies  on  it,  and  them  fine  boots  't  he  's  had  since 
before  the  flood,  and  the  old  plug  hat,  they  ain't  no 
denyin'  he 's  a  sight.  Only  trouble  is,  you  can't 
hardly  tell 't  it 's  him." 

Mr.  White  says:  "Well,  I  s'pose  you  want  your 
mail,  don't  ye? "  He  goes  back  behind  the  mail 
case.  He  gives  my  father  a  letter  and  the  Pa 
triot. 

I  can  see  that  the  letter  is  from  my  brother.  We 
hear  from  him  every  few  days  now.  He  says  they 
are  coming  home  about  Thanksgiving. 

Grandpa  Tyler  winks  at  Mr.  White.  He  says : 
"  Has  he  told  you  yet  how  old  Cal  was  goin'  to  put 
him  off  o'  the  Scoot  the  other  day,  comin'  down  from 
the  Village?" 

My  father  says :  "  Come,  come,  Ty,  you  know  't 
264 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

ain't  any  such  thing !  Old  Cal  knew  it  was  me  all  the 
time.  He  was  just  jokin'.  And  besides,  he  only 
told  me  to  go  in  the  smokin'  car.  He  did  n't  say  to 
get  off  at  all." 

Grandpa  Tyler  looks  around,  and  says :  "  That 's 
all  right,  for  him  to  put  it  off  that  way.  Well, 
maybe  't  was  the  smokin'  car.  Anyway,  old  Cal 
taps  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  says  to  him,  says  he: 
4  Had  n't  you  better  go  into  the  smokin'  car  ?  You 
ain't  dressed  very  nice,  to  be  here  with  the  women 
passengers.' ' 

They  all  laugh  at  my  father.  My  father  says  to 
Mr.  White:  "Don't  you  believe  anything  he  says, 
Ephram !  Cal  was  only  makin'  believe  he  did  n't 
know  me,  and  that 's  all  there  was  to  it.  I  could  tell 
by  the  way  he  laughed." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  In  a  pig's  ear  he  was !  " 
He  winks  again.  He  says :  "  That 's  all  right !  " 

My  father  unfolds  his  paper  and  looks  at  it.  He 
says :  "  I  wonder  what  the  papers  '11  do  for  news 
after  'lection  day.  They  '11  be  awful  uninterestin' 
for  a  while,  I  'spect." 

The  door  latch  clicks.  We  look  to  see  who  is  com 
ing.  Mr.  Purdy  and  Mr.  Walker  come  in.  Every 
body  is  surprised.  They  always  get  their  mail  in 
the  afternoon.  They  almost  never  come  down  at 
night. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  well,  now  !  How  's 
this?  I  thought  you  fellers  was  always  to  bed  by 

265 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

this  time   o'   night.     Does  your   folks   know  where 
you  be? " 

Mr.  Purdy  and  Mr.  Walker  always  come  down 
to  meet  the  three  o'clocks,  and  go  home  at  five. 
Every  afternoon  at  quarter  to  three  they  come  walk 
ing  down  the  road  together.  If  it  is  n't  winter,  they 
are  always  in  their  shirt  sleeves.  They  have  their 
vests  unbuttoned,  and  their  arms  are  always  hanging 
loose,  like  my  father's.  Mr.  Purdy  has  white  hair 
and  whiskers,  and  Mr.  Walker's  is  reddish  white. 

Once  Aunt  Phoebe  said  to  my  mother :  "  I  de 
clare  I  never  knew  'em  to  miss,  rain  or  shine !  I  've 
got  so  's  I  don't  worry  any  more  'bout  windin'  the 
clock,  'cause  if  I  fergit  it,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  watch 
when  Purdy  and  ol'  Walker  comes  along,  and  set 
it  by  them.  They  're  sure  to  come  by  on  the  way 
down  at  quarter  to  three,  almost  to  the  minnit,  and 
they  're  just  as  sure  to  come  along  on  the  way  back 
at  quarter  to  five.  They  cal'late  to  git  home  just 
in  time  for  supper,  an'  that 's  all." 

My  mother  said :  "  I  don't  see  how  they  can 
get  much  work  done,  going  down  every  day  like 
that." 

Aunt  Phoebe  said :  "  Bless  you,  they  don't  work 
no  more !  All  they  do  is  just  putter  around  a  little 
here  and  there.  But  then,  they  never  did  work  a 
great  deal,  nohow." 

By  and  by  she  said:  "Well,  I  don't  b'lieve  I 
would  myself,  if  I  could  afford  not  to." 

266 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Then  she  said:  "  No,  I  '11  take  that  back.  After 
all,  I  'd  rather  wear  out  than  rust  out.  I  've  always 
said  so." 


267 


XLVI 

Old  Jerry  Dodge  Is  Drunk  Again,  and  Cap 
Swann  Gets  a  Letter 

MR.  Purdy  leans  on  the  counter  near  the  mail 
case.  He  says :  "  Eph,  I  don't  s'pose 
they  's  anything  for  me,  is  they?  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  No,  course  they  ain't !  What 
do  you  ask  that  for?  You  just  got  your  mail,  a 
couple  o'  hours  ago,  did  n't  ye?  " 

Mr.  Purdy  says :  "  I  did  n't  know  but  maybe  I 
might  'a'  got  somethin'  from  the  west." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  West  nothin' !  You  never  got 
anything  on  that  train  in  your  life,  and  you  know  it 
as  well  as  I  do." 

Then  he  says :  "  But  then,  I  '11  go  an'  look,  if 
it  '11  make  you  feel  any  better." 

Old  Jerry  Dodge  is  sitting  beside  the  box  with 
the  ashes  in  it.  We  know  he  is  a  little  bit  drunk. 
He  almost  always  is.  He  forgets  which  side  the  ash 
box  is  on.  He  leans  over  on  the  wrong  side,  and 
spits  right  on  the  floor. 

The  spit  makes  a  noise,  and  Mr.  White  hears  it. 
He  looks  at  old  Jerry  through  his  spectacles.  He 
has  to  hold  his  head  up  to  do  it. 

He  says :  "  Come,  now,  Jerry,  what  sort  o'  man- 
268 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

ners  is  that?  Here  I  go  and  get  that  box  to  see  if 
we  can't  sort  o'  keep  things  kind  o'  clean,  and  you 
up  and  spit  on  the  floor.  You  ought  to  be  'shamed 
o'  yourself." 

Jerry  says :     "  Ephram,  I  am  'shamed !  " 

He  stops  a  while.  He  looks  right  straight  in 
front  of  him,  but  as  if  he  did  n't  see  anything  very 
plainly. 

He  says :  "  Yes,  sir,  Ephram,  the  honest  truth  is, 
I  am  'shamed !  But  ye  see  I  been  up  to  the  Village, 
an'  I  been  talkin'  politics  so  much  I  got  all  mixed  up." 

Pretty  soon  old  Jerry  leans  over  and  almost  spits 
on  the  wrong  side  again.  Mr.  White  calls  out : 
"  Hey  there,  Jerry !  Look  out !  There  you  go 
again ! " 

He  is  just  in  time.  Old  Jerry  leans  over  on  the 
right  side  now.  He  spits.  It  takes  him  quite  a 
while.  He  looks  up  at  Mr.  White,  and  says :  "  Eph, 
confound  it  all,  why  don't  ye  have  spit-boxes  on  both 
sides,  anyway?  'T  would  n't  cost  ye  a  great  deal 
more." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Not  much !  One  '11  have  to 
be  enough.  Now,  Jerry,  mind  your  eye,  or  next 
time  you  go  spittin'  on  the  floor,  we  '11  have  to  carry 
you  out  on  a  chip." 

After  a  while,  Jerry  gets  up.  He  says :  "  Well, 
I  s'pose  the  ol'  lady  '11  be  expectin'  me.  She  makes 
a  awful  fuss  if  I  don't  turn  up  about  the  time  she  's 
lookin'  for  me." 

269 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

He  walks  toward  the  door.  He  staggers  a  little. 
He  takes  hold  of  the  latch,  and  turns  around,  and 
says :  "  Ye  see,  I  really  come  back  on  the  Scoot,  but 
she  won't  know  but  what  I  waited  and  come  on  the 
half  past  seven.  Well,  good  evenin'  to  ye,  gentle 
men."  He  makes  a  bow. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  I  '11  bet  ye  anything  he 
don't  get  by  the  saloons  without  stoppin' !  I  '11  war 
rant  ye  he  's  been  in  one  or  the  other  of  'em  ever  since 
the  Scoot  come  down." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  She  '11  proba'ly  know  all  about 
it  when  he  gets  there.  She  usually  knows  what  he  's 
up  to.  He  did  that  same  trick  once  before,  and 
when  she  found  it  out,  she  says  to  him :  '  Dodge,' 
says  she,  '  Dodge,  if  I  'd  'a'  knowed  ye  was  down  in 
the  saloons  instead  of  up  to  the  Village  where  ye  said 
ye  was,  I  'd  'a'  eat  ye ! '  She  said  it  right  here  in 
front  of  us.  I  tell  you,  I  had  to  laugh." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :     "  What  'd  he  say  to  her?  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Well,  't  would  'a'  tickled  you 
to  death.  Old  Jerry  he  set  up,  and  looked  at  her, 
and  tried  to  make  out  he  was  sober.  He  says  to  her: 
'  Well,  ol'  lady,'  says  he,  'all  7  got  to  say  is,  ye  'd  'a' 
found  it  mighty  tough  eatin'!'  v 

Everybody  laughs  so  hard  that  we  don't  hear  the 
door  latch  click.  First  thing  we  know,  the  door  is 
wide  open  and  Cap  Swann  is  coming  in. 

Cap  stops  at  the  counter  by  the  mail  box.  He 
says :  "  Good  evenin',  Eph  an'  everybody." 

270 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Mr.  White  starts  for  the  mail  box.  He  says : 
"  Cap,  I  got  a  letter  for  ye.  It  come  in  on  the 
mornin'  train." 

Cap  says :  "  Well,  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it."  His 
voice  sounds  thinner  than  ever  to-night.  It  sounds 
as  if  there  were  a  little  wire  drawn  through  it.  He 
says:  "  What  train  'd  it  come  on,  Eph?  " 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Oh,  how  do  you  'spose  I  can 
remember  what  train  it  come  on?  All  I  can  remem 
ber  is,  that  it  come  this  mornin'.  That  '11  have  to 
do  ye." 

Cap  takes  the  letter  and  looks  at  it.  He  holds 
it  up  to  his  eyes,  near  the  lamp.  He  lays  it  down  on 
the  counter  and  takes  his  spectacles  out.  He  says : 
"  I  'm  all  right  yit  fer  a  long  ways  off,  but  I  'm 
gittin'  so  's  I  can't  make  out  anythin'  clost  onless  I 
git  my  spectacles  on." 

Mr.  White  says :  "  I  '11  git  ye  the  tongs,  if  ye 
say  so." 

Cap  says :  "  No,  thank  ye,  Ephram,  I  think  I  can 
make  out."  He  looks  at  the  letter  again.  He  says : 
"  Well,  now,  I  wonder  who  it  can  be  from."  He 
turns  the  letter  over.  Then  he  holds  it  up  against 
the  lamp  chimney.  Then  he  looks  at  the  post 
mark. 

He  says :  "  Can't  see  the  post  mark,  so  they  's  no 
tellin'  by  that." 

He  looks  at  the  writing  again.  He  looks  at  the 
post  mark  again. 

271 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

He  says :  "  It  can't  be  from  Jonas,  'cause  I  got 
one  from  him  last  week." 

Cap  stands  holding  the  letter  in  both  hands,  look 
ing  at  it. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Well,  maybe  ye  could  tell  by 
lookin'  inside." 

He  winks  at  Grandpa  Tyler.  He  says :  "  That 's 
the  way  7  do  when  I  can't  tell  no  other  way." 

Cap  says :  "  Eph,  that 's  a  good  idee !  First 
class !  "  He  acts  as  if  he  were  going  to  open  the 
letter,  but  he  does  n't.  He  goes  over  behind  the 
stove  and  sits  down  on  the  box  beside  Grandpa  Tyler. 
He  puts  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  and  begins  to  take 
his  spectacles  off. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  What,  ain't  ye  goin'  to 
open  it  after  all?  " 

Cap  says :  "  No,  I  'm  goin'  to  save  it  till  I  git 
home.  I  '11  read  it  to-morrow  mornin'.  It  '11  make 
good  Sunday  readin'."  He  folds  his  spectacles  up, 
and  puts  them  in  his  upper  vest  pocket. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  by  godfrey ! 
That 's  a  great  way  to  do !  Now  s'posin'  it 's  a  let 
ter  from  your  girl,  how  do  you  s'pose  she  'd  like  it, 
to  have  you  not  carin'  any  more  'bout  her  letter  'n 
that?"  " 

Cap  says :  "  Well,  now  I  know  you  're  gittin' 
hard  up  for  somethin'  to  say."  But  we  all  laugh  at 
the  idea  of  old  Cap  having  a  girl. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  By  the  way,  Cap,  how  's  your 
272 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

perpetual  motion  machine  gettin'  on?  Maybe  that 's 
what  your  letter  's  about." 

We  all  knew  perpetual  motion  would  be  sure  to 
come  up. 

Cap  says :  "  That 's  all  right,  Eph,  but  I  '11  tell 
you  one  thing.  If  I  had  that  there  tongue  o'  yourn, 
they  would  n't  be  no  more  trouble  'bout  perpetchal 
motion.  Could  n't  anybody  stop  that  if  he  wanted 
to  —  that 's  jest  as  sure  as  my  name 's  Peleg 
Swann." 


273 


XLVII 

Mr.  White  Talks  Politics,  and  Mr.  Purdy  Is 
Disgusted 

CAP  Swann  reaches  out  and  puts  his  hand  on  the 
stove.  There  is  no  fire  in  it. 

Cap  says :  "  Eph,  how  much  longer  'fore  you  're 
goin'  to  begin  to  have  a  fire  in  yer  old  stove?  " 

Grandpa  Tyler  looks  up  and  says :  "  Yes,  I  was 
just  goin'  to  inquire  about  that  myself.  Ain't  it 
'bout  time  you  was  doin'  somethin'  to  make  your  cus 
tomers  comf 'table?  You'd  make  enough  out  o'  the 
extry  trade  to  pay  for  the  wood." 

Mr.  White  sniffs.  He  says:  "Customers! 
Anybody  might  think,  to  hear  him  talk,  't  he  bought 
his  stuff  here,  instead  o'  goin'  to  Town  for  it." 

Grandpa  Tyler  begins  to  laugh.  He  winks  at  my 
father  and  the  rest  of  us.  He  says :  "  Come,  now, 
don't  take  on  so  !  Don't  I  buy  all  my  postage  stamps 
of  ye?" 

We  all  laugh.  Mr.  White  walks  over  to  the  ash- 
box.  He  goes  "  hep,  hep,"  and  then  spits.  He 
does  n't  say  anything. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  if  you  want  decent 
274 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

folks  to  trade  with  ye,  why  in  the  world  don't  you 
come  down  on  yer  prices?  You  can't  expect  any 
body  to  pay  two  prices  for  everything  they  buy." 

Mr.  White  spits  again.  He  backs  up  to  the  coun 
ter,  and  puts  his  hands  on  it  behind  him,  and  lifts 
himself  up  with  a  little  jump  till  he  sits  on  it.  He 
says :  "  Tyler,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I  don't 
put  anything  on  except  what  the  freight  out  from 
Town  costs  me." 

Grandpa  Tyler  looks  around  at  all  of  us.  He 
laughs. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  You  folks  't  goes  to  Town 
for  your  stuff  don't  save  enough  on  what  you  buy 
to  pay  for  your  wagon  grease.  If  you  'd  buy  o'  me 
instead  o'  the  stores  in  Town,  I  could  sell  as  cheap 
as  anybody." 

Grandpa  Tyler  laughs  again.  He  says :  "  There, 
now,  look  at  that!  Contradicts  himself  at  every 
breath !  First  it 's  'cause  he  has  to  pay  freight, 
and  then  it 's  'cause  we  don't  paternize  him.  You 
can't  tell  a  thing  by  what  he  says.  I  never  see  any 
body  so  onreliable.  You  can't  depend  on  him!" 

We  all  laugh  again.  We  know  Grandpa  Tyler  is 
only  making  believe.  Mr.  White  knows  it,  too,  but 
sometimes  he  forgets. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Oh,  go  'long  with  ye !  "  He 
gets  down  from  the  counter,  and  goes  over  and  spits 
again. 

He  says :  "  Well,  to  come  back  to  what  you  was 
275 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

sayin',  you  need  n't  think  you  're  goin'  to  get  warm 
off  'n  me,  not  for  a  good  month  to  come.  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  warmin'  the  hull  neighborhood  when  they  got 
wood  o'  their  own." 

He  says :  "  And  besides,  you  republicans  '11  all  be 
warm  enough  by  four  weeks  from  next  Tuesday. 
You  won't  need  any  fire  to  keep  you  warm." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  By  godfrey  !  I  would  n't 
be  surprised  if  the  ol'  cuss  really  thought  Hancock 
was  goin'  to  be  'lected !  " 

Mr.  Walker  says :  "  Well,  if  he  does,  all  I  got 
to  say  is  't  he  's  goin'  to  git  fooled.  They  ain't  never 
goin'  to  be  no  more  democrat  presidents  in  this 
country."  He  talks  as  if  he  were  cross. 

Mr.  White  talks  right  on  as  if  he  hadn't  heard 
what  they  said.  He  says :  "  We  're  goin'  to  make 
it  so  hot  for  ye  't  ye  won't  cool  off  by  Christmas. 
I  don't  expect  to  see  one  of  ye  down  here  after  the 
mail  again  after  'lection  for  six  weeks.  You  '11  all 
be  sendin'  the  boys." 

Cap  Swann  begins  to  laugh.  It  sounds  like  cack 
ling.  He  says :  "  ATo,  sir,  this  country  ain't  a-goin' 
to  let  itself  be  governed  agin  by  no  such  party  as  the 
democrat  party.  Why,  Eph,  they  'd  be  war  agin  in 
less  'n  a  week.  We  can't  afford  to  go  through  all 
that  fightin'  again,  an'  what 's  more,  we  ain't  a-goin' 
to.  I  know  what  I  'm  talkin'  about.  I  spent  four 
years  o'  my  life  in  the  ranks,  an'  I  tell  ye  I  know !  " 

Mr.  Purdy  says :  "  Yes,  and  the  democrat  party 
276 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

killed  my  boy.  If  it  had  n't  been  for  them,  he  'd  'a' 
been  alive  to-day.  Ephram,  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  stand  there  and  talk  like  that,  after  all  we  been 
through  to  save  the  Union." 

Mr.  White  says:  "War  nothin'!  That's  all 
poppycock,  and  you  know  it !  The  democrat  party 
as  a  party  never  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  war,  and 
you  know  it  as  well  as  anybody.  It 's  the  only  party 
the  country  's  ever  had  that 's  had  a  principle.  It 's 
the  only  party  to-day  that 's  got  a  principle." 

Mr.  Walker  sniffs.  He  says :  "  Principle !  Well, 
I '11  be  darned!" 

My  father  says :     "  Humph !  " 

Mr.  White  goes  on.  He  says :  "  And  we  're  goin' 
to  show  ye,  this  time !  They  ain't  a  state  that  you  're 
likely  to  kerry  in  the  hull  country,  unless  maybe 
Rhode  Island,  and  you  can  walk  all  around  that  be 
fore  breakfast." 

Mr.  White  keeps  on  that  way.  Pretty  soon  Mr. 
Walker  gets  up.  He  says  to  Mr.  Purdy :  "  Chet, 
't  ain't  a-goin'  to  pay  to  set  an'  listen  any  longer  to 
his  lyin'.  Le'  's  go  on  home !  " 

Mr.  Purdy  gets  up,  and  they  both  start  for  the 
door. 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Come,  now,  don't  go  off  mad ! 
You  know  you  proba'ly  can't  help  bcin'  republicans 
anyway,  and  I  don't  s'pose  you  ever  will,  unless  you 
take  a  decent  paper  in  place  of  your  good-for-nothing 
old  Patriot." 

277 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Mr.  Walker  sniffs.  He  snaps  out :  "  Well,  it 's 
a  good  deal  better  'n  any  o'  your  ol'  democrat  papers, 
anyhow ! " 

When  they  are  gone,  Mr.  White  laughs,  and  says : 
"  They  never  can  stand  it  more  'n  about  so  long,  and 
then  they  have  to  git  up  and  go.  They  can't  never 
argue  without  gettin'  mad  over  it." 

He  goes  over  to  the  ash  box.  He  says:  "  Well,  I 
s'pose  it 's  kind  o'  mean,  but  I  sort  o'  like  to  git  'em 
goin'  that  way." 

Grandpa  Tyler  gets  up.  He  says :  "  Well,  Eph, 
your  talk  is  mighty  entertainin',  specially  when  a 
feller  thinks  o'  what 's  goin'  to  happen  the  first  Tues 
day  after  the  first  Monday  o'  next  month.  But  I 
got  to  go.  An'  I  guess  it 's  about  time  you  shut  up, 
too,  ain't  it?  Must  be  mighty  nigh  onto  nine 
o'clock." 

My  father  puts  the  Patriot  and  the  letter  into 
his  coat  pocket.  We  all  get  up. 

Grandpa  Tyler  says :  "  Well,  good  night, 
Ephram.  You  can  count  on  our  feelin'  sorry  for 
you  again  after  'lection,  same  as  usual." 

He  says  to  my  father :  "  I  s'pose  we  ought  to  let 
him  talk  all  he  wants  to  before  'lection,  while  he  's 
got  a  chance.  He  never  gits  no  chance  afterwards." 

Mr.  White  does  n't  say  anything.  Grandpa  Tyler 
speaks  louder,  so  Mr.  White  can't  pretend  he 
does  n't  hear.  He  says :  "  By  godf rey,  Hi,  I  'd 
hate  awful  to  be  a  democrat!  Wouldn't  you?" 

278 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Mr.  White  says :  "  Don't  you  worry  about  me! 
Only  four  weeks  more,  and  you  '11  the  hull  o'  ye  be 
'round  tryin'  to  make  me  believe  you  voted  the  demo 
crat  ticket." 

Grandpa  Tyler  says:  "  Just  hear  the-ol'  cuss  go 
on!  Did  ye  ever  hear  anything  like  it?  I  never 
did!" 


279 


XLVIII 

My  Father  and  I  Get  Ready  to  Make  a 
Sunday  Visit 

I   HAVE  just  opened  my  eyes.     There  is  bright 
light  in  the  room.     The  feather  bed  is  nice  and 
warm.     My  face  feels  fresh  and  cool,  and  the  air 
smells  good.       I  know  it  is  a  nice  day. 

My  window  is  open.  I  hear  a  hen  cackling,  and 
one  of  the  cows  is  going :  "  M-m-m-mma-a-a !  "  She 
does  n't  do  it  very  loud,  and  between  times  I  can 
hear  her  pulling  at  the  grass  next  to  the  barnyard 
fence.  There  are  a  couple  of  birds  in  the  evergreen 
tree  outside  my  window.  It  is  so  still  that  I  remem 
ber  it  is  Sunday. 

I  hear  the  stair  door  open.  My  mother  calls  up 
the  stairway :  "  Bre-e-eak-fa-a-ast !  "  She  does  n't 
call  very  loud.  She  says:  "Are  you  'wake?  If 
you  're  going  with  your  pa  to-day  you  'd  better  get 
up  and  get  dressed.  Put  on  your  Sunday  clothes !  " 

All  at  once  I  remember.  If  it  is  a  good  day,  we 
are  going  over  to  Aunt  Caty's.  I  jump  out  of  bed 
and  put  one  of  my  new  calico  shirts  on,  and  my  black 
pants. 

280 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  put  shoes  on,  too.  I  don't  like  the  shoes,  and  I 
don't  like  the  coat  and  vest  and  collar  and  stiff  hat. 
I  'd  much  rather  go  barefoot  and  in  my  shirt  sleeves, 
and  wear  my  old  felt  hat  —  the  one  that  is  so  old 
and  out  of  shape  that  my  mother  calls  it  my 
foolscap.  Foolscap  is  the  name  of  the  paper  I  get 
at  the  store  for  examinations.  That 's  how  she  came 
to  call  it  that. 

But  my  mother  always  says :  "  Goodness  gracious 
me !  What  would  they  think  of  us  if  we  let  you  go 
over  there  looking  like  that?  " 

I  look  out  of  the  window  through  the  evergreen 
branches.  My  father  has  just  opened  the  road  gate, 
and  the  cows  are  going  out.  There  is  a  lot  of  dew 
on  the  grass.  The  air  is  so  cool  and  fresh  that  I 
want  to  get  out  in  it. 

I  run  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  front  door,  and 
across  the  front  yard  to  the  road.  I  say  to  my 
father:  "  Pa,  are  we  going?  " 

My  father  starts  up  the  gravel  walk  toward  the 
house.  The  walk  is  packed  down  hard.  It  has  flat 
weeds  in  some  places.  I  keep  looking  at  him  to 
see  what  he  is  going  to  say. 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  I  guess  it 's  goin'  to  be  a 
first  rate  day,  and  we  'd  better  go,  for  fear  we  sha'n't 
get  another."  He  says :  "  We  Ml  let  the  cows  eat 
along  the  road,  and  then  we  '11  turn  'em  into  the  lane 
when  we  come  along." 

I  say :     "  Are  we  going  right  away?  " 
281 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  better  run  in  and  get 
your  breakfast,  and  be  all  ready.  It  takes  quite  a 
while  to  drive  over,  and  we  want  to  be  there  before  it 
gets  too  hot." 

I  go  in  and  have  some  bread  and  milk.  The  milk 
is  warm,  because  my  father  just  brought  it  in. 

My  father  changes  his  clothes,  and  slicks  his  hair 
and  whiskers  a  little.  Then  he  goes  out  to  the  barn. 
I  hear  the  clock  strike  eight.  We  never  turn  the 
cows  out  as  late  as  that  on  week  days. 

My  mother  brushes  my  hair,  and  gets  me  a  clean 
paper  collar.  She  helps  me  fasten  my  little  blue  and 
white  tie  on.  It  has  a  little  rubber  loop  that  goes 
around  the  button. 

Pretty  soon  my  father  drives  up  to  the  woodshed 
door.  I  hear  the  front  wheels  bump  over  the  planks 
in  the  walk,  and  then  he  stops.  Just  as  I  get  to  the 
door,  he  is  saying:  "  Well,  where  are  you?  " 

I  get  in.  It  is  the  old  buggy  that  rattles  so.  My 
mother  stands  in  the  door.  She  says :  '*  Now,  don't 
you  both  go  and  kill  yourselves  eating  over  there ! " 

My  father  laughs.  My  mother  says:  "Well, 
good-bye !  I  s'pose  you  '11  be  home  in  time  for  sup 
per?" 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  I  s'pose  you  can  look  for 
us  about  five  or  half  past.  We  '11  try  not  be  very 
late." 

My  mother  says :  "  Of  course,  if  you  want  to 
stay  longer,  we  can  manage  to  get  along  for  once." 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :     "  No,  you  can  look  for  us." 

He  gives  the  lines  a  little  pull.  He  says :  "  Well, 
get  along ! " 

The  old  mares  wiggle  their  ears,  and  start.  The 
hind  wheels  bump  over  the  planks,  and  we  go  out 
along  the  row  of  asparagus.  When  we  turn  into  the 
road,  the  buggy  dips  and  the  springs  hit  together. 
They  are  always  doing  that,  they  are  so  limber. 

My  father  flicks  old  Judy.  We  begin  to  trot. 
The  wheels  make  a  noise  on  the  gravel,  and  the  spokes 
rattle. 

My  father  says :  "  I  wish  I  'd  'a'  poured  a  pail  o' 
water  over  the  tires,  to  kind  o'  tighten  'em  up.  But 
maybe  we  '11  be  goin'  through  some  puddles  some 
where.  That  '11  stop  'em.  I  s'pose  I  '11  have  to  have 
'em  set  again  one  o'  these  days." 

I  look  back.  My  mother  is  leaning  in  the  wood 
shed  door,  watching  us.  She  has  her  arms  folded. 


283 


XLIX 
We  Drive  to  Aunt  Caty's  and  Uncle  DaneVs 

THE  old  mares  trot  along  till  we  are  near  the 
lane.  I  jump  out  and  drive  the  cows  in,  and 
shut  the  gate.  We  go  on  up  the  church  hill. 

When  we  are  in  front  of  the  church,  I  think  of 
Sunday  school.  I  am  glad  I  don't  have  to  go  to-day. 
I  don't  mind  getting  verses  by  heart  and  saying  them, 
but  I  don't  like  dressing  up  and  sitting  in  such  a 
noise.  Besides,  the  songs  are  n't  interesting.  And 
Lije's  mother  sits  too  close  to  me,  and  Lije's  father 
prays  too  long.  He  is  the  Sunday  school  superin 
tendent. 

Tip  is  over  on  his  front  steps.  I  wave  my  hand 
to  him,  and  he  waves  back.  He  is  whittling  some 
thing. 

We  go  past  the  schoolhouse  and  Purdy's.  My 
father  has  the  lines  wound  around  his  left  hand.  He 
jerks  a  little  on  them  two  or  three  times,  and  makes 
a  whistling  sort  of  sound.  The  old  mares  lay  their 
ears  back  a  little,  but  they  keep  on  walking. 

My  father  jerks  some  more.  He  says:  "Come! 
Come !  Come !  Come !  We  're  never  goin'  to  get 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

there  at  this  rate."  Then  the  old  mares  switch  their 
tails,  and  walk  a  little  faster.  We  think  they  are  go 
ing  to  trot,  but  they  don't.  They  begin  to  walk 
again. 

My  father  takes  the  whip  out  of  the  socket  and 
flicks  the  old  mares  on  the  back.  They  start  up  now, 
and  trot  along  past  Steiner's  and  a  few  steps  up  the 
next  hill. 

My  father  says:  "  Don't  you  want  to  take  your 
coat  off?  It  '11  be  pretty  warm  by  and  by." 

I  take  my  coat  off  and  lay  it  on  the  seat.  In  a 
little  while  we  are  where  we  can  look  down  Bradley's 
hill  and  across  the  tamarack  swamp  to  Bernard's. 
There  the  road  goes  up  again. 

Bernard's  hill  looks  terribly  long  and  steep,  but 
we  know  it  really  is  n't.  It  is  only  the  way  we  see 
it,  from  so  far  and  so  high. 

The  road  through  the  swamp  is  muddy.  There 
is  water  on  both  sides.  The  tamaracks  are  so  close  I 
can  almost  touch  them.  They  are  so  thick  you  can 
hardly  get  through,  and  it  is  boggy  and  wet  in  there. 

Once  Tip  and  I  came  over  here  after  tamarack 
gum.  We  got  a  lot  of  it,  but  it  was  too  bitter.  We 
chewed  it  a  long  time,  and  made  believe  we  liked  it, 
but  we  did  n't.  The  rubber  gum  that  we  get  at  the 
store  is  a  good  deal  better. 

While  we  are  going  up  Bernard's  hill,  my  father 
says :  "  See  if  you  can  make  out  the  new  grave. 
Can  you?" 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  look  across  the  stubble  field  to  some  trees  with 
a  fence  around  them.  That  is  their  burying  ground. 
They  have  one  all  to  themselves. 

We  think  we  can  see  the  new  grave.  It  is  where 
one  of  the  Bernard  boys  was  buried  last  winter.  He 
was  brought  home  from  out  west.  My  father  and 
I  went  to  the  funeral.  They  had  it  at  the  house. 
We  stopped  at  Mr.  Purdy's,  and  he  went  with  us. 

I  say:     "Who  else  is  buried  there?" 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  for  one,  there  's  Bernard 
himself,  the  father." 

I  don't  remember  anything  about  him.  I  say: 
"Who  was  he?" 

My  father  says :     "  Oh,  he  was  before  your  time." 

I  say:     "  Did  you  know  him?  " 

My  father  says :  "  No,  not  so  very  well.  He  was 
a  German.  They  say  he  was  a  well  educated  man, 
and  a  fine  musician.  They  say  he  was  n't  very  happy 
here,  so  far  away  from  where  he  was  brought  up." 

My  father  says  to  the  old  mares :  "  Come,  come ! 
Don't  stop  just  because  it 's  a  little  up  hill." 

He  says  to  me :  "  We  are  apt  to  forget  that  the 
Germans  must  get  pretty  lonesome  sometimes,  'way 
over  here." 

We  go  past  the  house.  I  see  the  door  where  they 
carried  the  coffin  out.  The  steps  are  steep,  and  they 
turn,  and  it  was  hard  for  them  to  get  it  down.  The 
room  was  ever  so  small  where  they  had  him.  When 
we  went  in  to  look  at  him,  there  was  a  boy  that  stood 

286 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

there  and  looked  all  the  time  till  they  came  and 
screwed  the  cover  on. 

Before  long  we  come  to  the  South  Plank.  My 
father  says:  "  Well,  which  way  shall  we  go?  Shall 
we  turn  down  the  Plank,  or  go  on  to  the  town  line?  " 

I  say :  "  Oh,  le'  's  go  the  Plank  way,  and  come 
back  the  other  way." 


287 


My  Father  Tells  Me  About  the  Plank  Road 
and  Early  Times 

THE  old  mares  like  the  Plank.  They  turn  to 
the  left  without  any  pulling  on  the  lines  at  all. 

We  go  about  half  a  mile,  and  there  is  a  big  white 
house.  It  has  a  great  many  green  blinds.  There  is 
a  saloon  in  one  part  of  it. 

My  father  says :  "  That  house  used  to  be  a 
tavern,  in  the  early  days." 

Back  beyond  the  house  there  is  a  field,  and  then  a 
piece  of  timber.  Last  winter  they  shot  a  grey  wolf 
there.  No  one  had  seen  a  wolf  wild  for  a  long  time, 
but  there  used  to  be  plenty  of  them  when  people  first 
came.  My  brother  wrote  about  it  for  the  paper. 

My  father  says :  "  Don't  you  remember  what  the 
paper  said  about  the  wolf?  Well,  this  is  the  place." 

A  little  farther  on,  we  come  to  a  queer  little  house 
that  stands  right  at  the  edge  of  the  road. 

I  say :  "  Why  do  they  have  that  house  so  close  to 
the  road?  " 

My  father  says :  "  That  used  to  be  a  toll  house. 
The  man  that  kept  the  gate  lived  there." 

I  don't  understand.  My  father  explains  it.  He 
288 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

says :  "  You  see,  they  call  this  the  South  Plank  be 
cause  it  really  was  a  plank  road  once.  There  was 
another  called  the  North  Plank,  the  other  side  of  our 
house,  away  over  beyond  the  burying  ground.  There 
were  n't  any  railroads  in  early  times,  and  they  made 
the  plank  roads  from  the  city  out  through  here  so 
the  farmers  could  draw  their  wheat  and  things  to 
Town.  They  used  to  charge,  and  every  couple  of 
miles  there  was  a  toll  gate.  But  the  railroads  came, 
and  the  planks  wore  out,  and  now  you  would  n't  know 
they  'd  ever  been  here." 

We  come  to  another  old  house.  Its  blinds  are  shut 
tight,  and  the  paint  is  all  worn  off. 

My  father  says :  "  There  's  another  of  the  old 
taverns.  People  used  to  stop  over  night  in  'em. 
They  lived  so  far  away  it  took  two  or  three  days,  and 
sometimes  a  week,  to  go  to  Town  and  back." 

After  a  while  he  says :  "  They  used  to  have  dances 
here  in  the  early  days,  too.  That  was  before  there 
were  so  many  Germans.  The  taverns  were  n't  like 
the  saloons.  Folks  used  to  come  from  miles  around. 
But  it 's  got  so  we  don't  have  so  many  dances  now,  at 
least  among  the  old-timers." 

After  a  mile  or  so,  we  turn.  The  rest  of  the  way 
is  straight  south.  There  is  the  big  elm  tree  where 
we  cross  the  town  line,  and  then  a  long  level  road  that 
gets  so  muddy  at  one  place  that  my  father  is  afraid 
something  will  happen  to  the  buggy. 

The  old  mares  make  a  great  sucking  noise  with 
289 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

their  feet.  There  are  logs  sticking  out  of  the  mud 
on  both  sides. 

When  we  get  where  the  road  is  harder,  my  father 
whips  up  the  old  mares.  The  buggy  wheels  don't 
rattle  now. 

My  father  turns  in  the  seat,  and  looks  back.  He 
says :  "  That 's  what  you  call  a  corduroy  road  — 
or  that 's  what  it  was  once.  I  'in  always  glad  when  I 
get  through  that  place.  The  going  's  'most  always 
pretty  good  except  that  one  stretch." 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  It  always  makes  me  think 
o'  the  time  your  ma  and  I  was  married." 

I  say:     "Why?" 

My  father  says :  "  You  know  I  married  her  over 
at  Durham,  where  she  lived.  That  was  sixteen  miles 
from  home,  seven  the  other  side  of  Aunt  Caty's.  I 
drove  over,  and  then  it  rained.  The  going  was  so 
bad  I  had  to  leave  her  there  and  walk  home.  I  was 
station  agent  then,  and  o'  course  I  had  to  be  on  tap 
early  in  the  morning.  Your  Uncle  Charles  brought 
her  and  the  rig  over  afterwards.  That  was  in  '59. 
Le'  's  see,  that  was  about  'levcn  years  before  you  come 
to  town." 

The  old  mares  hardly  move.  As  soon  as  my  father 
began  to  talk,  they  stopped  trotting  and  began  to 
walk.  They  always  do  that,  unless  he  uses  the  whip 
on  them.  He  sits  leaning  over  a  little  bit,  with  his 
left  arm  across  his  knee,  and  forgets  all  about  them. 

We  go  up  a  long  hill  that  is  n't  very  steep,  and 
290 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

then  down  past  a  marsh,  and  then  up  again  along 
some  woods.  The  woods  belong  to  Cousin  Sylvanus. 
Cousin  Alvarus  lives  opposite  them. 

When  we  get  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  can  see  Aunt 
Caty's.  They  live  in  a  valley,  with  hayfields  and 
stubble  and  cornfields  all  around,  and  hickory  nut 
trees  here  and  there.  On  the  other  side  there  are 
some  stony  hills,  that  are  pastures  for  the  sheep. 

Aunt  Caty's  house  is  white,  and  has  green  blinds. 
It  is  a  big,  low  house.  It  is  half  covered  up  by  ever 
greens  and  fruit  trees. 

Across  from  the  house  is  the  horse  barn.  It  is 
right  by  the  road.  It  is  red,  with  white  trimmings. 
The  hay  barn  is  farther  back,  but  that  is  not  painted. 

My  father  says :  "  I  guess  you  'd  better  put  on 
your  coat  and  hat  now,  hadn't  you?  You  know 
your  ma  wants  you  to  be  dressed  up  when  you  go  to 
see  other  folks." 


291 


LI 

We  Find  Cousin  Delia  Feeding  the  Chickens 
and  Turkeys 

MY  father  says :     "  There  's  Delia,  sure  's  you 
live!     I  never  knew  it  to  fail!     Seems 's  if 
every  time  we  come  she  was  out  feeding  the  chickens 
just  the  way  she  is  now." 

Cousin  Delia  is  in  the  road  in  front  of  the  red 
horse  barn.  She  is  standing  there  with  turkeys  and 
chickens  all  around  her.  She  has  a  calico  dress  and 
apron  on,  and  a  blue  and  white  checked  calico  sun- 
bonnet.  She  is  feeding  the  chickens  and  turkeys. 
That  is  always  her  work.  She  likes  it. 

We  begin  to  turn  in  toward  the  horse  barn  before 
Cousin  Delia  looks  up.  At  first  she  does  n't  know 
us,  but  it  is  only  a  second.  As  soon  as  she  is  sure 
who  we  are,  she  sets  her  pail  down.  The  old  mares 
stop.  Cousin  Delia  says:  "Well,  I  declare! 
You  've  come  again,  haven't  you?  I  'm  glad  to  see 
you,  Uncle  Hiram !  " 

Cousin  Delia  is  almost  as  old  as  my  father,  and  I 
always  think  it  is  queer  for  her  to  call  him  uncle. 
But  she  is  really  his  niece,  and  she  is  my  cousin,  even 
if  she  is  so  much  older  than  I. 

292 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  get  out  of  the  buggy.  Cousin  Delia  shakes 
hands  with  my  father.  She  says :  "  Well,  how  do 
you  do  ?  "  Then  she  shakes  hands  with  me,  and  says : 
"  And  how  do  you  do?  " 

I  like  the  way  Cousin  Delia  says  it.  She  does  n't 
talk  fast,  and  her  voice  always  sounds  as  if  she  meant 
it.  She  ends  some  of  her  sentences  with  a  kind  of 
jerk. 

Cousin  Delia  picks  up  a  tin  pail  full  of  big  brown 
eggs.  She  says :  "  Well,  I  '11  go  right  in  and  tell 
the  folks.  They  '11  be  ever  so  glad  to  see  you." 

She  goes  across  the  road  to  the  gate  in  the  old 
white  picket  fence.  My  father  and  I  begin  to  un 
hitch.  I  unsnap  the  tugs  on  my  side. 

We  don't  more  than  get  started  before  we  see 
Cousin  Sylvanus  coming  down  the  path  from  the 
house.  He  must  have  seen  us  before  we  got  out,  be 
cause  Cousin  Delia  is  only  through  the  gate. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  is  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  has  an 
old  straw  hat  on.  He  has  a  hickory  shirt,  the  same 
as  my  father  wears.  He  stoops  a  little,  too,  and  his 
arms  swing,  just  like  my  father's.  He  has  shaggy 
hair  and  shaggy  grey  whiskers.  He  holds  his  head 
back  as  he  comes  down  the  path,  and  keeps  looking. 
I  know  he  is  n't  quite  sure  who  we  are. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  is  glad  to  see  us,  too.  I  can  tell, 
because  he  says  things  just  like  Cousin  Delia,  only 
he  breaks  off  shorter. 

He  shakes  hands  with  us.  He  says :  "  Well ! 
293 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Well!  Well!  Well!  I-I  'm  just  as  glad  to  see  you 
as  I-I  can  be ! " 

Cousin  Sylvanus  stammers  the  least  bit  sometimes 
when  he  is  excited. 

He  begins  to  help  us  unhitch.  He  says :  "  I  tell 
you,  you-you  can't  come  too  often  to  suit  us ! " 

We  got  almost  through  with  the  unhitching. 
Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Here,  you  let  me  take  care 
of  'em,  and  you  go  to  the  house.  The  folks  '11  want 
to  see  you." 

My  father  says :  "  Oh  pshaw !  We  '11  help  put 
'em  in,  and  all  go  in  together." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  All  right,  then." 
Pretty  soon  he  says :  "  Best  give  'em  some  water 
now,  or  wait  a  while  till  they  're  cooler?  " 

My  father  laughs.  He  says :  "  I  guess  there 
ain't  any  danger  o'  their  bein'  too  warm.  It 's  took 
us  two  hours  to  come  nine  miles  !  " 

They  take  the  horses  by  the  bridles.  Cousin  Syl 
vanus  says:  "How's  the  goin'?  Pretty  poor,  I 
s'pose.  It 's  pretty  poor  between  here  and  Town,  I 
know.  M-mighty  poor !  " 

They  lead  the  horses  to  the  trough.  Old  Judy 
puts  her  nose  down,  but  she  won't  drink.  She  only 
snorts. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  I  s'pose  she  don't  like 
the  smell  o'  the  water.  'T  ain't  what  she  's  used  to, 
you  see." 

He  waits  a  while.  He  says :  "  Well,  maybe  she  '11 
294 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

change  her  mind  by  the  time  she  's  had  her  oats." 

My  father  says:  "Well,  anyway,  she  drank  mid- 
dim'  good  before  we  come  away.  I  guess  she  ain't 
suffering  for  water." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  puts  the  old  mares  in  the  stalls. 
He  gets  the  fork  and  gives  them  hay.  We  hear  them 
begin  to  crunch  it. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says  to  me :  "  You-you  must  n't 
get  too  near  the  old  white's  heels.  I  never  knew 
him  to  kick  yet,  but  as  a  rule  you  can't  be  too  care 
ful  around  strange  horses." 

We  stand  in  the  door  a  while.  It  is  nice  and  warm 
and  sunshiny.  The  hens  are  cackling.  Once  in  a 
while  one  of  the  old  turkeys  gobbles.  I  am  not  used 
to  turkeys. 

My  father  says :     "  I  see  you  ain't  thrashed  yet." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  No,  there  's  no  hurry 
about  it.  I  always  like  to  thrash  late.  It 's  good 
for  the  grain  to  have  a  chance  to  sweat  out  in  the 
stack.  If  I  was  sure  prices  would  n't  go  down,  I-I 
would  n't  thrash  till  real  cold  weather.  N-no  sir !  " 

My  father  says :  "  Don't  your  stacks  ever  wet 
in?" 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Not  a  bit  of  it !  "  He 
says  it  as  short  as  can  be,  but  I  know  he  is  n't  the 
least  bit  cross.  We  are  used  to  the  way  he  talks. 

He  says :  "  No,  there  's  no  danger  if  you  only 
build  'em  right.  All  you  have  to  do  is  keep  the  mid 
dle  good  and  full  and  put  a  good  cover  o'  marsh  hav 

295 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

on,  and  they  won't  wet  in  a  bit  —  not  if  you  leave  'em 
out  till  Christmas  !  " 

He  takes  a  step  or  two  away  from  the  door.  He 
says :  "  But  le'  's  go  in !  Father  and  mother  and 
the  girls  '11  be  wonderin'  why  we  don't  come." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  and  my  father  always  call  them 
the  girls. 


296 


LII 


Cousin  Sylvanus  and  All  the  Rest  Are  Glad  to 
See  Us 

WE  cross  the  road  and  go  into  the  yard.     The 
old  picket  fence  leans   a  little.     The  gate 
strikes  the  ground  when  Cousin  Sylvanus  opens  it. 

We  go  up  the  path  along  the  side  of  the  house.  It 
is  hard  black  dirt,  and  there  are  plantains  on  the 
edges.  We  go  around  to  the  back  door. 

They  don't  use  their  front  door,  so  there  is  n't  a 
path  going  up  to  it.  The  parlor  is  in  the  front  part. 
The  front  yard  is  all  evergreens,  and  the  ground  is 
covered  with  needles.  They  are  brown,  and  there 
are  brown  cones  here  and  there. 

We  go  up  the  back  steps.  We  stop  to  scrape  and 
rub  our  feet.  We  know  the  kitchen  floor  will  be  as 
clean  as  can  be. 

Cousin  Sarah  is  in  the  kitchen.  When  we  open 
the  door  and  go  in,  she  is  just  putting  some  wood  in 
the  stove. 

Cousin  Sarah  is  black-eyed,  and  she  is  small.  Her 
hair  is  smoothed  down  on  both  sides.  Her  voice  is 
soft.  She  comes  up  to  us  and  shakes  hands,  and 
smiles. 

297 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

She  says :  "  We  're  so  glad  to  see  you,  Uncle 
Hiram !  It  has  been  quite  a  long  time  since  you  'vc 
been  to  see  us." 

She  says  to  me :  "  And  we  're  glad  to  see  you, 
too."  She  shakes  hands  with  me,  and  puts  her  hand 
on  my  head.  She  says :  "  Why,  how  you  do  grow !  " 

We  start  toward  the  sitting  room  door.  Cousin 
Sarah  says :  "  I  thought  I  'd  make  up  a  little  fire 
so  as  to  have  it  ready  for  Delia.  But  go  right  in,  go 
right  in ! " 

We  go  through  the  door  into  the  sitting  room. 
It  is  cool  and  clean  in  there.  It  smells  of  the  rag 
carpet,  too,  just  as  it  does  in  our  sitting  room  at 
home.  Only  they  have  straw  under  their  carpet.  It 
is  soft  when  we  walk  on  it,  and  does  n't  make  any 
noise. 

As  soon  as  we  open  the  door,  Cousin  Juliette  comes 
up  to  us  and  takes  hold  of  our  hands.  You  can 
hardly  hear  her  walk.  Her  hands  are  warm  and 
soft,  and  her  voice  sounds  that  way,  too.  I  like  to 
have  her  look  at  me.  Her  hair  is  getting  white. 

Aunt  Caty  and  Uncle  Danel  are  right  behind 
Cousin  Juliette.  They  are  both  very  old  and  very 
white.  Uncle  Danel  has  a  cane.  He  is  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  and  his  vest  is  open.  He  has  bunches  of  thin 
white  whiskers  near  his  ears.  Aunt  Caty  stoops  a 
good  deal,  and  has  trouble  in  walking. 

They  shake  hands  with  us. 

Aunt  Caty  says :     "  Hiram,  how  are  ye?  " 
298 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Uncle  Danel  says :  "  Hi,  we  're  real  glad  to  see 
ye  again ! " 

Then  Aunt  Caty  says :  "  We  'd  'a'  been  out  to  the 
barn  to  meet  ye,  but  we  don't  stir  'round  's  much  's 
we  used  to." 

Aunt  Caty's  voice  is  always  a  little  hoarse.  She 
speaks  quickly. 

Uncle  Danel  does  n't  speak  so  quickly.  He  says : 
"  No,  we  're  gettin'  old.  That 's  the  'mount  of  it. 
But  come !  Have  a  chair !  Have  a  chair !  " 

We  sit  down.  I  sit  on  the  sofa,  near  the  window. 
There  is  a  pillow  on  it  at  the  end  that  is  in  the  corner 
of  the  room.  There  is  a  nail  in  the  window  casing, 
and  an  almanac  hanging  there  by  a  pink  string.  A 
pair  of  scissors  hangs  there,  too.  Uncle  Danel's  big 
silver  watch  and  chain  are  hanging  on  a  hook  away 
up  high  on  the  other  wall. 

They  have  a  mantel  behind  their  stove,  with  the 
clock  on  it.  Their  clock  is  like  ours,  only  it  has  col 
umns  at  the  sides  of  the  door,  and  General  George 
Washington  in  the  door,  instead  of  just  a  looking- 
glass.  He  is  in  a  blue  and  yellow  uniform,  and  has 
his  hand  stretched  out.  He  is  commanding  some 
thing.  His  head  is  gone,  and  part  of  his  left  arm. 

When  the  clock  strikes,  it  is  like  a  little  bell.  Ours 
is  n't  that  way.  Theirs  says :  "  Ding-ding-ding- 
ding,"  but  ours  says :  "  Dong  .  .  .  dong  .  .  . 
dong !  "  Ours  is  a  good  deal  slower. 

Cousin  Juliette  says  to  me :  "  I  '11  go  and  see  if  I 
299 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

can't  get  you  something  to  amuse  yourself  with  while 
they  are  talking." 

She  goes  out  by  the  door  that  leads  into  the  hall 
and  the  parlor.  She  comes  back  with  the  stereoscope 
and  some  pictures,  and  some  books.  She  always  gets 
something  for  me  that  way. 

They  begin  to  ask  my  father  about  my  mother. 
Aunt  Caty  says :  "  I  wish  you  could  get  her  to  come 
along  with  you  oftener.  O'  course  she  understands 
she  's  more  'n  welcome." 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  of  course !  But  you  see 
she  don't  quite  like  to  leave  the  house  alone  all  day, 
with  none  of  us  anywhere  near." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Well,  't  is  quite  a  while  to 
leave  a  house  all  alone.  I  don'  know  as  I  blame 
her!" 

My  father  says :  "  It  '11  be  different  when  the 
young  married  folks  get  back." 

Uncle  Danel  says :  "  I  understand  you  really  ex 
pect  'em  back  about  Thanksgivin'.  At  least  that 's 
what  you  wrote  in  your  last  letter.  Well,  well,  well ! 
You  '11  be  real  glad,  won't  you,  both  of  you?  " 

Aunt  Caty  says :     "  Well,  I  guess  they  will !  " 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :     "  Of  course  they  will !  " 

Cousin  Delia  says :  "  Well,  I  should  say  as 
much!" 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  You  need  the  boy  at  home, 
too,  Hi.  You  ain't  no  business  workin'  so  hard,  at 
your  time  o'  life." 

300 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  O'  course  you  can  keep 
a  man,  but  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a  man  don't 
take  things  off  o'  your  shoulders.  N-no,  sir!  " 

Cousin  Delia  says :  "  Of  course  he  don't.  The 
fact  is,  sometimes  I  think  they  make  it  harder." 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  I  've  had  to  put  up 
with  a  good  deal  from  'em,  but  of  course  I  can't 
choose.  If  I  could,  by  jolly!  I  wouldn't  have  one 
of  'em  on  the  place.  I  'd  do  every  bit  o'  my  own 
work."  He  says :  "  And  I  would  n't  have  a  machine 
on  the  place,  either ! " 

Aunt  Caty  says:  "Well,  Hiram,  you  always  did 
like  to  be  independent,  even  when  you  was  a  boy." 

Uncle  Danel  looks  at  me.  He  says :  "  I  s'pose 
you  do  quite  a  little  to  help  your  pa,  don't  you?  " 

Cousin  Juliette  says :  "  Of  course  he  does. 
Don't  you  ?  " 

I  say :  "  I  can  carry  bundles  and  set  'em  up. 
And  I  can  bind." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Why,  ain't  that  too  hard  for 
a  little  boy  like  you?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  what  he  does  in  the 
harvest  field  don't  'mount  to  so  very  much.  But  he 
helps  ma  a  lot,  and  he  managed  the  berry  pickin'  for 
me  this  summer." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  You  don't  say  he  did !  Well, 
well,  well !  Now  I  call  that  mighty  smart,  for  a  boy 
o'  his  years." 

My  father  and  Aunt  Caty  and  Uncle  Danel  talk 
301 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

about  York  State  and  the  time  they  came  west.  It 
was  in  '39. 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  I  remember  the  roads  when  we 
came  out  from  Town.  They  was  just  dreadful! 
Fact  o'  the  matter  is,  they  wa'n't  no  roads.  They 
wa'n't  a  shovelful  of  gravel  between  here  and  Town !  " 

They  talk  about  Batavia,  where  they  came  from. 
My  Uncle  Abe  and  my  father  came  a  little  after  the 
others.  Uncle  Abe  lived  four  or  five  miles  away. 
He  is  dead,  and  Aunt  Nancy  and  the  boys  live  alone. 

My  father  says:  "Heard  from  Jane  lately? 
She  's  got  some  queer  notions  in  her  head  these  last 
years,  and  they  say  you  can't  talk  'em  out  of  her." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Yes,  I  understand  she  has.  I 
never  hear  from  her  any  more,  though.  Thinks  Pete 
is  alive  yet  somewhere,  don't  she?  " 

My  father  says :  "  No,  not  exactly  that.  But 
she  sticks  to  it  that  Pete  is  being  changed  all  the  time 
from  one  graveyard  to  another  —  underground,  I 
s'pose.  You  just  can't  do  anything  with  her.  She 
won't  have  it  any  other  way." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Too  bad  !  And  she  'pears  to 
be  all  right  every  other  way,  too,  don't  she?  " 

My  father  says  :     "  Straight  as  a  string !  " 

By  and  by  he  says :  "  Well,  she  's  got  some  good 
boys,  anyway.  They  '11  take  good  care  of  her." 

Uncle  Danel  says :  "  Yes,  you  're  right  about 
that!  She  has  got  some  mighty  good  boys.  And 
so  's  Nancy.  I  don't  think  they  've  got  a  bad  habit 

302 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

among  'em.  They  don't  drink  nor  swear,  nor  use 
tobacco  in  any  form,  and  they  're  good  workers." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Of  course  they  are ! 
There  ain't  a  shif 'less  bone  in  their  body !  " 

Uncle  Danel  says:  "  That 's  just  as  true  as  you 
live.  They  're  as  reliable  as  they  can  be.  You  can 
depend  upon  'em  every  time." 

Cousin  Delia  comes  in.  She  stands  there  until 
Uncle  Danel  is  through  talking.  Then  she  says  to 
Cousin  Juliette :  "  Juliette,  I  s'pose  you  and  Sarah 
might  be  setting  the  table."  She  goes  back  to  the 
kitchen  to  get  the  things  off  the  stove. 

Cousin  Juliette  and  Cousin  Sarah  pull  the  table 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  spread  a  clean  table 
cloth.  Then  they  go  to  the  pantry  and  bring  the 
plates  and  things.  You  can  hardly  hear  them  step. 
You  can  hear  the  clock  tick  while  they  are  going  back 
and  forth. 


LIII 

We  Have  Broiscn  Eggs,  Hot  Biscuits,  and  Pear 
Preserves  for  Dinner 

AUNT  CATY  gets  to  thinking  of  something  else. 
All  of  a  sudden  she  looks  up.     She  gives  her 
head  a  quick  jerk  when  she  does  it,  so  she  can  look 
straight  through  her  spectacles. 

She  says :  "  Well,  I  guess  the  girls  have  got  the 
dinner  on.  S'posin'  we  have  somethin'  to  eat. 
Sha'n't  we?" 

We  all  get  up.  Uncle  Danel  and  Aunt  Caty  grunt 
when  they  get  up.  They  move  slowly. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  sits  down  at  his  place,  and  leans 
back.  He  sits  in  an  arm-chair  that  will  tilt  without 
the  legs  moving. 

Cousin  Juliette  says  to  my  father :  "  Uncle  Hi 
ram,  won't  you  sit  here,  by  mother?  " 

She  says  to  me :  "  Here,  I  've  brought  the  dic 
tionary  for  you  to  sit  on.  I  'm  sorry  we  have  n't  a 
high-chair  for  you.  But  I  guess  you  '11  get  along." 

Uncle  Danel  says :  "  You  see  it  *s  a  long  time 
since  we  've  had  a  baby  in  the  house.  If  it  was  n't 
for  your  boy  and  Melindy's  girls,  Hi,  we  'd  forget 
what  childern  was  like,  I  'm  'fraid." 

304 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :  "  I  'm  in  hopes  Melindy  '11  be 
over  sometime  before  we  go  back."  Melinda  is  an 
other  of  the  girls. 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  I  should  n't  wonder  a  bit  if 
she  did.  They  often  come  over  Sundays." 

We  have  meat  and  potatoes  and  sweet  corn,  and 
there  is  a  big  white  bowl  full  of  the  brown  eggs. 
Uncle  Danel  begins  to  dish  the  meat  and  potatoes. 

When  it  comes  my  turn,  Uncle  Danel  says  to  my 
father :  "  Well,  what  shall  I  give  the  boy  ?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  he  '11  eat  anything  you  've 
got !  You  can  depend  on  him  every  time.  He  's  al 
ways  got  a  first  rate  appetite." 

Cousin  Sarah  passes  the  corn.  She  says :  "  I 
guess  this  is  about  the  last  of  our  sweet  corn.  It 's 
held  out  later  than  usual  this  year.  Won't  you  have 
some?  " 

The  eggs  have  brown  specks  on  them.  We  tap 
them  with  our  knives,  and  take  the  shell  off.  They 
are  hard-boiled. 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Somehow  I  never  care  for  'em 
soft-boiled.  They  make  such  a  mess  on  yer  plate. 
I  don't  like  the  taste  of  'em  so  well,  either." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :     "  No,  nor  I !  " 

Cousin  Delia  says :     "  Nor  I !  " 

All  three  of  them  speak  short.  My  father  does, 
too.  Cousin  Juliette  and  Cousin  Sarah  always 
speak  softly. 

Aunt  Caty  says:  "  Sarah,  I  thought  ye  had  some 
305 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

biscuits.  Did  n't  ye?  Seems  to  me  a  while  ago  's  if 
I  smelled  'em." 

Cousin  Sarah  lifts  up  a  fresh,  white  napkin,  and 
there  under  it  is  a  plate  of  nice  white  biscuits.  She 
passes  them  to  Aunt  Caty. 

Aunt  Caty  takes  a  biscuit,  and  passes  them  to  my 
father.  She  says :  "  Hiram,  have  a  biscuit.  And 
take  one  for  the  boy." 

My  father  takes  a  biscuit  for  himself,  and  gives 
me  one.  Then  he  reaches  for  another.  He  says: 
"  Hold  on,  here !  I  guess  I  better  take  two  for 
him,  while  I  'm  about  it.  They  don't  last  him  very 
long." 

I  feel  warm  in  the  face. 

Everything  is  good,  but  the  biscuits  are  the  best. 
Cousin  Sarah  always  makes  them.  They  are  white 
outside  and  inside,  and  light,  and  smoking  hot  when 
you  open  them. 

They  have  their  butter  white  at  Aunt  Caty's,  and 
put  in  plenty  of  salt.  I  like  it  that  way. 

The  biscuits  are  good  with  the  meat  and  potato 
and  egg,  but  they  are  best  of  all  with  the  pear  pre 
serves. 

Cousin  Juliette  says :  "  We  're  only  just  using  up 
the  last  of  our  last  year's  preserves." 

My  father  looks  toward  the  south  window.  He 
says:  "  Is  the  tree  bearin'  as  usual  this  year?  " 

Cousin  Juliette  says :  "  Yes,  it  is.  It  does  n't 
hang  quite  so  full  as  last  year,  but  there  '11  be  plenty 

306 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

for  our  own  use.  We  always  have  all  the  pears  we 
want.  Goodness  me !  I  don't  know  what  we  should  do 
without  them.  I  don't  believe  there  has  ever  been 
a  year  without  some." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  I  s'pose  I  better  get  at 
it  and  pick  'em  one  o'  these  next  few  days." 

My  father  says :  "  Well,  I  never  could  have  any 
luck  with  pears." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Why,  goodness,  't  aint  no 
trouble  to  raise  pears!  The  tree  just  stands  there, 
and  bears.  We  don't  do  anything  to  it !  " 

I  don't  like  to  ask  for  more  biscuits.  I  don't  know 
what  I  'd  do  if  it  were  n't  for  Cousin  Juliette.  Some 
how  she  always  passes  them  before  I  have  been  with 
out  very  long.  I  have  quite  a  good  many. 

My  father  notices.  He  says :  "  You  must  n't  eat 
too  many ! " 

I  feel  warm  in  the  face  again.  I  look  down.  I 
remember  what  my  mother  said  about  eating.  I  wish 
my  father  would  n't  say  things  like  that. 

Cousin  Juliette  laughs  a  little.  She  says :  "  Oh, 
let  him  have  all  he  wants,  he  likes  them  so  well !  You 
know  they  're  awfully  small.  I  often  tell  Sarah  I 
think  she  makes  them  too  small.  And  they  Jre  light. 
I  don't  think  they  '11  hurt  him  a  bit." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  I  don't  either.  Not  a 
bit  of  it !  "  * 

Cousin  Delia  says:     "Nor  I!" 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Of  course  they  won't !  Who 
307 


ever  heard  o'  such  a  thing?  He's  a  growin'  boy, 
ain't  he?" 

Aunt  Caty  talks  almost  as  if  she  were  cross.  But 
I  know  she  is  n't,  a  bit. 

When  we  are  all  through,  they  lean  back  a  little 
while,  and  talk.  Cousin  Sylvanus  puts  his  elbows  on 
the  arms  of  his  chair,  and  puts  his  fingers  and  thumbs 
against  each  other,  over  his  stomach. 

Uncle  Danel  says :  "  I  wish  Melindy  and  Hale 
and  the  girls  'd  come  over.  I  expect  Alvarus  will 
come  in  —  at  least,  if  he  saw  you.  Did  you  notice 
when  you  come  by  ?  " 

Cousin  Alvarus  lives  at  the  last  place  before  we 
come  to  Aunt  Caty's.  He  has  a  great  many  sheep. 

By  and  by  everybody  gets  up.  Cousin  Juliette 
and  Cousin  Sarah  clear  the  table.  Cousin  Juliette 
takes  the  table  cloth  and  shakes  it  out  of  the  south 
door,  and  folds  it,  and  puts  it  away.  They  spread 
the  every  day  cloth  on,  and  push  the  table  back 
against  the  wall  again. 

We  can  hear  Cousin  Delia  beginning  to  wash  the 
dishes.  Cousin  Sarah  and  Cousin  Juliette  go  out 
where  she  is.  They  are  going  to  wipe  the  dishes  and 
set  them  away. 

Uncle  Danel  and  Aunt  Caty  lean  back  in  their 
chairs.  Pretty  soon  they  begin  to  nod. 

Aunt  Caty's  glasses  fall  off.  She  puts  a  news 
paper  over  her  head,  and  goes  to  sleep. 

Uncle  Danel  lies  down  on  the  sofa.  The  clock 
308 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

strikes  once.  It  is  half  past  twelve.  They  always 
begin  dinner  before  twelve.  They  have  breakfast  at 
just  twenty  minutes  to  seven. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says  to  my  father :  "  Sha'n't  we 
go  out  and  'tend  to  the  horses  now?  " 

They  start  for  the  barn.  I  walk  along  behind 
them. 


309 


LIV 

We  Feed  the  Horses,  and  Get  a  Basket  of 
Sweet-Apples 

COUSIN  SYLVANUS  says:  «  Le'  's  see,  how 
many  oats  do  you  'low  'em?  " 

My  father  says:  "Oh,  when  they  travel,  I  usu 
ally  give  'em  about  four  quarts." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  gets  the  oats.  The  old  mares 
whinner  when  they  hear  him  coming. 

We  stand  by  the  door  quite  a  while.  Cousin  Syl 
vanus  and  my  father  talk  about  the  crops  and  the 
weather.  I  go  and  look  out  of  the  back  door  at  the 
sheep  in  the  meadow.  We  don't  have  sheep  on  our 
farm. 

We  go  back  into  the  yard.  We  go  to  the  garden 
and  look  at  the  tomatoes  and  the  melon  vines. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  The  frost 's  held  off 
pretty  well  so  far,  but  I  'spect  one  o'  these  days  we  '11 
catch  it." 

We  go  over  to  the  sweet-apple  tree.  There  are  a 
lot  of  them  on  the  ground. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  You  '11  have  to  take  a 
basket  of  'em  home  with  you.  They  're  poor  keep- 

310 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

ers,  but  I  should  n't  wonder  if  you  could  manage  to 
use  a  few  of  'em  before  they  spoil." 

My  father  picks  up  one  and  begins  to  eat  it.  He 
says :  "  Well,  thank  you,  if  you  've  got  more  than 
you  can  use,  I  don'  know  but  we  mil  take  a  few  of 
'cm." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says  to  me :  "  S'pose  you  run  in 
and  ask  Delia  for  the  basket." 

We  fill  the  basket.  My  father  says :  "  I  '11  bring 
the  basket  back  next  time  we  come.  I  hope  it  won't 
be  as  long  as  it  has  this  time." 

We  go  to  the  house.  Cousin  Sylvanus  carries  the 
basket.  He  sets  it  just  inside  the  kitchen  door.  He 
says :  "  I  '11  put  it  right  here,  where  we  '11  be  sure 
and  see  it  when  we  come  out." 

Uncle  Danel  and  Aunt  Caty  are  awake  after  their 
naps.  They  look  sleepy  yet.  We  all  sit  down,  and 
they  begin  to  talk  about  York  State  again. 

Aunt  Caty  and  my  father  have  a  great  many 
brothers  and  sisters  and  uncles  and  aunts.  They 
talk  about  every  one  of  them.  I  look  at  pictures. 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Heard  from  Polly  lately  ? 
Last  time  she  wrote  she  was  n't  feelin'  so  very  spry. 
Rheumatism,  she  says.  An'  she  says  her  cousin,  Mis' 
John  Bartlett,  her  't  was  Mandy  Smith,  is  havin'  the 
same  kind  o'  trouble  exactly." 

No  one  says  anything  for  a  while.  I  keep  on  look 
ing  at  pictures. 

Then  Aunt  Caty  says :  "  I  heard  from  Melissy 
311 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

last  week.  She  's  all  crippled  up  with  rheumatism, 
too.  Said  she  could  hardly  set  up,  and  't  was  all 
she  could  do  to  hold  a  pen." 

Aunt  Caty  waits  a  while.  She  says :  "  Well,  her 
writin'  was  awful,  and  no  gettin'  'round  it !  " 

They  talk  about  Jacob,  and  Peter,  and  Heman, 
and  Lorinda,  and  a  lot  more.  Most  of  them  were 
named  out  of  the  Bible.  They  talk  about  when  they 
were  married,  and  how  many  children  they  have,  and 
how  much  property.  They  talk  about  Uncle  Abe, 
and  the  ones  that  died.  There  are  so  many  of  them 
all  together  that  I  wonder  how  they  can  remember 
them  all. 

Cousin  Juliette  comes  and  says  to  me :  "  Don't 
you  want  to  come  into  the  other  room  with  me  a 
while?  You  must  be  tired  hearing  them  talk." 

We  go  out  into  the  hall.  It  is  cooler  there.  It 
smells  as  if  it  had  been  shut  up.  It  is  as  clean  and 
quiet  as  can  be.  We  hardly  make  a  bit  of  noise 
when  we  walk. 

We  go  into  a  room  at  one  side.  It  has  big  lace 
curtains,  and  a  center  table,  and  a  what-not.  It  is 
cooler  yet  in  there. 

Cousin  Juliette  shows  me  the  album.  She  shows 
me  Cousin  Luriette,  that  died  a  long  time  ago  when 
she  was  young.  She  has  black  hair  smoothed  down 
on  both  sides.  Then  there  are  Cousin  Seymour  and 
Cousin  Myron.  They  live  away  somewhere. 

By  and  by  Cousin  Juliette  shows  me  some  books. 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

She  asks  me  if  I  read  many  story  books.  She  says : 
"  I  '11  ask  Uncle  Hiram  if  he  would  n't  like  to  have  me 
let  you  take  some  books." 

We  go  back  where  they  all  are.  Cousin  Juliette 
says  to  my  father :  "  Uncle  Hiram,  does  he  read 
story  books?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  he  devours  everything  we 
have  in  the  house.  It 's  as  much  as  the  neighborhood 
can  do  to  keep  him  supplied." 

Cousin  Juliette  says:  "Well,  now,  wouldn't  you 
like  to  take  home  Ida  May  with  you,  or  Peculiar  In 
stitution?  We  think  they  are  real  good  stories. 
They  're  about  slavery  days." 

I  say :  "  Yes,  I  'd  like  to  take  them."  I  don't 
like  to  ask.  It  makes  my  face  warm  again. 

Cousin  Juliette  says :  "  Well,  you  shall  take  them 
both.  I  '11  wrap  them  up  right  away,  so  they  '11  be 
all  ready." 

I  look  through  the  Chase's  almanac  hanging  by  the 
window  casing,  and  then  go  back  and  begin  to  look 
at  the  pictures  again.  A  good  many  of  them  are 
pictures  of  a  river,  and  rocks,  and  boats.  I  keep 
thinking  how  I  'd  like  to  go  fishing  in  that  river. 

Uncle  Danel  and  Aunt  Caty  have  a  way  of  forget 
ting  what  the  others  were  saying.  Sometimes  they 
forget  what  they  were  saying  themselves.  They  sit 
still  quite  a  while,  and  look  up  all  of  a  sudden  and 
say:  "What  was  that  we  was  just  sayin'?  I  got 
to  thinkin'  about  somethin'  else,  and  lost  track." 

313 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  look  at  all  the  pictures  three  or  four  times.  I 
get  up  and  go  out  of  the  south  door. 

I  go  over  to  the  pear  tree,  and  stand  and  look  up 
at  the  pears.  They  are  late  winter  pears.  They 
say  that  they  are  n't  good  to  eat  until  they  have  been 
lying  in  the  house  and  getting  mellow  a  long  time. 
But  I  wish  I  had  some  of  them  to  try  now. 


314 


LV 


The  Hales  and  Alvarus  Come,  and  Alvarus 
Tells  About  the  Dogs 

I  HEAR  a  noise  out  by  the  road.  Someone  is 
saying :  "  Whoa !  Whoa ! "  A  carriage  is 
just  stopping  near  the  gate. 

Some  people  get  out.  I  know  it  must  be  Mr.  Hale 
and  Cousin  Mclinda.  Mr.  Hale's  name  is  Hiram, 
just  like  my  father's.  They  have  two  little  girls,  a 
good  deal  smaller  than  I  am.  Mr.  Hale  has  a  mill, 
and  a  pond. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  goes  down  the  path  to  meet 
them.  I  go  into  the  house.  Pretty  soon  they  all 
come. 

Cousin  Melinda  is  quiet  and  nice,  like  all  of  the 
rest  of  them.  Mr.  Hale  has  whiskers  and  long  hair. 
They  are  reddish,  and  a  little  grey. 

Mr.  Hale  does  n't  talk  right  along.  He  keeps 
looking  down,  or  else  he  looks  away.  My  father  said 
once  that  he  acted  as  if  he  was  excusing  himself  for 
something.  When  he  said  it,  my  mother  said: 
"  Well,  I  guess  he  ain't !  What  has  he  got  to  excuse 
himself  for?  " 

The  little  girls  are  Winnie  and  Floy.  Winnie  has 
315 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

black  hair.  Floy's  is  n't  so  black.  They  sit  on  the 
carpet  and  look  at  pictures.  They  look  so  clean  and 
quiet  that  I  don't  see  how  they  can  play.  Whenever 
I  get  anywhere  near  them,  I  smell  clean  clothes. 

Cousin  Juliette  gets  Winnie  and  Floy  a  little  bell 
to  ring.  It  has  a  little  crack  in  the  side  of  it.  Their 
father  brought  it  from  the  Centennial  at  Philadelphia 
three  or  four  years  ago. 

Mr.  Hale  says :  "  I  never  see  so  much  water  as 
there  is  this  year.  The  pond 's  full  all  the  time. 
But  there  's  little  or  no  grindin',  of  course.  It 's 
early  in  the  season." 

I  wish  I  could  go  fishing  in  Mr.  Hale's  pond.  I 
know  there  would  be  scale  fish  there. 

Someone's  head  goes  by  the  north  window.  It  had 
an  old  straw  hat  on.  It  was  torn  on  one  side,  and 
stained  along  the  band. 

Cousin  Delia  says :  "  I  should  n't  wonder  if  it 
was  Alvarus." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  I  '11  warrant  you  that 's 
just  who  it  is!  " 

We  hear  steps  coming  across  the  kitchen  floor. 
Cousin  Sarah  gets  up  and  opens  the  door.  Cousin 
Alvarus  comes  in. 

Cousin  Sarah  looks  up  at  him,  and  smiles.  She 
says :  "  How  do  you  do  to-day,  Alvarus  ?  " 

Cousin  Alvarus  has  grey  hair  and  grey  whiskers, 
except  on  his  upper  lip.  He  has  a  vest  on,  but  no 
coat. 

316 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  gets  up  and  starts  to  meet  him. 
Cousin  Alvarus  says:  "How  d'  do,  everybody? 
How  d'  do,  Uncle  Hiram?  " 

He  shakes  hands  with  my  father.  He  says: 
"  Saw  you  drive  by  this  forenoon,  and  thought  I  'd 
come  down  a  minute,  for  fear  you  would  n't  find  time 
to  come  up." 

My  father  says:  "I  thought  maybe  you'd  drop 
in  before  we  got  ready  to  go.  If  you  had  n't,  I  cal 
culated  to  stop  a  minute  or  two  as  we  drove  by. 
How  's  Hannah  and  the  rest  of  the  family?  " 

Cousin  Alvarus  says :  "  Oh,  they  're  so-so  —  just 
middlin'.  How's  all  your  folks?"  He  asks  about 
my  brother  and  Edie.  My  father  tells  him  what  he 
told  the  others. 

Cousin  Alvarus  sits  down  beside  Aunt  Caty.  He 
says :  "  Pretty  well  to-day,  are  you,  mother?  " 

Aunt  Cat}'  says :  "  Oh,  there  's  never  nothing  the 
matter  o'  me!  " 

No  one  says  anything  for  a  while.  Cousin  Alva 
rus  sits  and  looks  at  the  carpet,  as  if  he  were  n't 
thinking  of  any  of  us. 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  What  'd  you  and  the 
boys  finally  make  out  about  the  dogs?  Did  you 
g-get  track  of  them?  "  He  jerks  his  words  out. 

Cousin  Alvarus  looks  at  my  father.  He  says: 
"  Dogs  got  into  my  sheep,  you  know.  Killed  one, 
and  tore  up  five  more  pretty  badly." 

He  says  to  Cousin  Sylvanus :  "  Yes,  we  did.  We 
317 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

traced  'em  up  at  last,  and  I  don't  think  we  '11  have 
any  more  trouble  from  that  quarter!  " 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Whose  were  they  —  the 
Schmitzes'?  F-first  thing  that  came  into  my  head 
when  I  heard  of  it  was  them." 

Cousin  Alvarus  says:  "  No,  't  wa'n't  the  Schmitz 
dogs.  No,  they  belonged  to  —  what's  his  name?  — 
to  that  good-for-nothing  fellow  over  by  the  town  line, 
three  or  four  miles  away.  You  know  who  I  mean  — 
Flanagan,  that 's  the  name.  One  of  the  most  shif- 
less  fellows  you  ever  saw !  Runs  through  every  cent 
he  has,  always  behind  with  his  work,  and  just  lives 
from  hand  to  mouth.  But  of  course  he  ain't  too 
poor  to  keep  a  lot  of  useless  dogs.  As  worthless  a 
scamp  as  you  ever  saw ! " 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Yes,  I  know  him. 
You  're  right !  That-that  's  exactly  what  he  is  !  " 

Mr.  Hale  says :  "  Did  you  have  any  difficulty 
proving  it  on  him?  " 

Cousin  Alvarus  says :  "  Oh,  it  was  as  plain  a  case 
as  could  be !  We  got  out  after  'em  first  thing,  'fore 
the  dew  was  off.  We  could  see  where  they  left  the 
pasture  and  went  across  the  second  crop  clover,  and 
we  kept  following  and  asking  everybody  we  met,  until 
we  got  to  this  place.  We  went  right  into  the  yard 
and  called  him  out  o'  doors." 

Cousin  Alvarus  begins  to  get  a  little  bit  excited 
remembering  all  about  it. 

He  says:  "I  says  to  him,  says  I:  'Flanagan, 
318 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

will  you  let  me  take  a  look  at  your  dogs  this  morn- 
ing?' 

"  Well,  the  fellow  began  to  bristle  up.  *  What  do 
you  want  to  see  my  dogs  for  ?  '  says  he.  '  Why,'  says 
I,  '  I  had  some  sheep  killed  and  mangled  last  night,' 
says  I,  '  and  I  'm  tryin'  to  locate  the  dogs  that  did 
it.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  he, '  't  wa'n't  my  dogs  done  it.' 

"  Says  I,  '  I  don't  say  it  was.  All  I  want  is  to  see 
'em.  Then  maybe  we  can  tell  whether  't  was  them  or 
not.' 

"  Well,  you  know,  at  first  the  fellow  was  inclined  to 
refuse.  But  finally  he  come  'round.  He  sent  his 
boy  to  call  the  dogs  around,  and,  by  jolly!  there  it 
was.  Two  of  'em  were  all  bloody  about  the  chaps 
and  had  pieces  o'  wool  stickin'  to  'em. 

"  I  knew  I  had  him.  '  Now,'  says  I,  ' 1  've  tracked 
your  dogs  here,  and  here  they  are.  Now  you  've  got 
to  let  me  shoot  'em,  or  I  '11  sue  you  for  damages. 
I  've  got  enough  witnesses  that  saw  'em  come.' 

"  Well,  you  know,  he  held  out  quite  a  while,  but  he 
saw  it  was  no  use  makin'  a  fuss.  Finally  he  says: 
'  Well,'  says  he,  '  all  right,  kill  'em  if  you  want  to,' 
and  the  boys  put  a  bullet  through  'em." 

Cousin  Delia  says :  "  Well,  't  was  only  the  fail- 
thing.  Of  course  they  'd  have  come  back  before  long 
and  killed  some  more." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Of  course  they  would. 
There  ain't  a  doubt  of  it ! " 

319 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Cousin  Alvarus  says :  "  I  s'pose  I  might  have 
sued  him  for  damages,  too.  But  the  fellow  has  n't 
got  a  thing.  'T  would  n't  be  any  use." 

Cousin  Sylvanus  says :  "  Not  a  bit  of  it !  Of 
course  not ! " 

They  all  talk  quite  a  long  time.  The  clock 
strikes  a  half  hour.  I  look.  It  is  half  past  three. 

My  father  gets  up.  He  says :  "  Well,  Caty,  I 
guess  we  '11  have  to  be  gettin'  ready  to  go." 

Aunt  Caty  says :  "  Pshaw,  Hiram,  stay  to  sup 
per,  won't  ye?  You  know  you  don't  come  very 
often.  You  '11  get  home  by  seven." 

My  father  says :  "  No,  we  better  be  startin' 
along."  He  says  to  me:  "You  know  your  ma '11 
be  lookin'  for  us,  and  it  '11  take  the  old  marcs  about 
two  hours  to  travel  it." 

Aunt  Caty  and  Uncle  Danel  say :  "  You  '11  be 
over  again  soon,  won't  ye?  " 

We  say  good-bye,  and  go  out  through  the  kitchen 
and  around  down  the  path,  and  across  to  the  horse- 
barn.  The  girls  all  come  with  us.  Cousin  Alvarus 
stays  in  the  house  with  Uncle  Danel  and  Aunt  Caty 
and  the  Hales.  Cousin  Sylvanus  carries  our  basket 
of  apples. 


320 


LVI 

My  Father  and  I  Start  Home,  and  Delia  Feeds 
the  Chickens  Again 

THEY  all  say  good-bye  to  my  father  and  me. 
He  says  to  the  old  mares :  "  Well,  le'  's  be 
gettin'  on  home !  "  He  flicks  them  with  the  whip. 
They  start  off  on  a  slow  trot. 

Before  we  get  so  very  far  we  look  back.  Cousin 
Delia  is  standing  at  the  side  of  the  road  in  front  of 
the  horse  barn.  She  has  her  sunbonnet  on,  and  a 
pail  in  her  hand,  and  there  are  turkeys  and  chickens 
all  around  her.  The  others  are  going  back  to  the 
house. 

My  father  says :  "  I  guess  the  chickens  and  tur 
keys  kind  o'  like  her,  the  way  they  're  always  around 
her.  And  I  guess  she  likes  them." 

We  go  past  Cousin  Alvarus's  house  and  over  the 
hill.  Cousin  Delia  is  there  as  long  as  we  can  see  the 
place. 

On  Cousin  Alvarus's  veranda  there  is  a  long  pine 
box.  It  has  a  black  oil-cloth  on  it.  I  think  of  Aunt 
Jane  and  her  notions.  I  wonder  whether  she  ever 
thinks  Uncle  Peter  is  in  there.  I  feel  as  if  I  should  n't 
like  to  open  the  box. 

The  old  mares  trot  better  than  they  did  in  the 
321 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

morning.  My  father  says :  "  That 's  because 
they  're  headed  for  home." 

But  he  has  to  jerk  on  the  lines  a  good  deal,  any 
way.  He  holds  the  whip  in  his  right  hand  all  the 
time.  Every  time  he  begins  to  say  anything  to  me, 
the  old  mares  stop  trotting. 

My  father  makes  his  own  whipstocks,  out  of 
hickory.  He  cuts  the  lashes  off  a  piece  of  buckskin 
that  he  keeps  in  the  woodshed.  He  makes  ax-helves, 
too.  He  dresses  them  down  with  the  drawshave, 
over  in  Uncle  Anthony's  shop.  Then  he  uses  his 
knife,  and  after  that  sandpapers  the  wood  till  it  is 
nice  and  smooth. 

I  take  off  my  hat  and  coat.  Pretty  soon  I  take 
off  my  shoes  and  stockings.  I  say :  "  I  don't  think 
I  'm  going  to  have  headache  this  time." 

My  father  says :  "  That 's  good !  I  don't  see 
why  you  should  have  it  so  much,  anyway." 

Every  time  we  go  past  a  woods,  my  father  looks 
at  the  big  trees.  He  says  he  has  hunted  squirrels 
so  much  it  has  come  to  be  a  habit  with  him  to  be 
always  looking  for  them  that  way. 

I  have  been  hunting  with  my  father  a  good  many 
times,  and  I  am  getting  so  I  look  at  the  trees  the 
same  way  he  does. 

All  of  a  sudden  a  big  fox  squirrel  runs  across  the 
road  in  front  of  us.  He  goes  through  the  rail  fence. 

My  father  says  :     "  Whoa,  whoa !  " 

The  old  mares  stop.  They  are  always  ready  to 
322 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

stop.  My  father  leans  forward  and  watches  the 
squirrel  till  he  goes  up  a  big  elm.  He  says :  "  By 
jolly!  I  wish  I  had  the  gun  here  now!  He  'd  make 
a  first  class  stewpie." 

My  mother  always  laughs  about  my  father  and 
hunting.  Once  she  said :  "  Every  time  he  sees  a 
squirrel  or  a  rabbit  he  gets  so  excited  he  does  n't 
know  what  to  do.  I  've  known  him  to  get  out  of  the 
cutter  when  we  were  going  somewhere,  to  follow  up 
a  mink  track  and  see  what  became  of  it." 

We  drive  on  again.  I  say :  "  Did  it  use  to  be  all 
big  trees  everywhere?" 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  everywhere  except  the 
little  openings,  as  we  called  'em.  There  were  n't  so 
many  where  the  openings  were." 

I  say :  "  It  must  have  been  lots  of  work  clear 
ing  up." 

My  father  says:  "Well,  I  just  giiess  it  was  lots 
of  work.  But  we  did  n't  have  to  clear  up  all  of  our 
farm.  The  railroad  took  some  of  the  timber.  But 
then,  there  was  the  stumps  and  the  stones  just  the 
same." 

I  say:     "Were  there  more  squirrels  then?  " 

My  father  says :  "  Yes,  and  there  used  to  be 
grey  squirrels  and  black  squirrels.  When  Abe  and 
I  kept  bachelor's  hall  where  Aunt  Nancy  lives  now, 
there  was  woods  all  around,  and  they  were  just  full 
of  game.  I  could  take  a  squirrel  right  through  the 
head  every  time,  on  a  tall  tree." 

323 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  gets  to  talking  about  his  folks  in  York 
State.  I  ask  a  good  many  questions.  He  says  his 
father  had  nine  brothers  and  sisters.  He  says  he  had 
fifteen  brothers  and  sisters  himself,  all  told.  They 
lived  four  miles  from  Batavia,  and  used  to  go  to  town 
to  church. 

My  father  says :  "  We  were  awfully  poor.  I 
s'pose  it  was  because  there  was  such  a  lot  of  us. 
Father  could  n't  dress  us  all,  so  only  the  biggest 
could  go  to  church.  And  then,  I  don't  s'pose  they 
could  all  have  got  into  the  wagon  at  once." 

He  says :  "  You  know,  I  did  n't  have  as  many 
things  as  you.  I  went  to  school  without  any  shoes 
up  to  the  time  there  was  snow  on  the  ground.  Once 
or  twice  I  went  right  in  the  snow.  And  then  I  had 
to  stay  at  home  and  work  as  soon  as  I  was  big 
enough  to  do  anything.  I  only  had  a  couple  o' 
years  o'  schooling." 

I  think  about  what  my  father  says,  but  I  don't  say 
anything. 

After  a  while  my  father  says :  "  But  when  I  got 
bigger  I  worked  in  Haney's  hardware  store  in  town, 
and  I  sat  up  nights  and  read  and  wrote  and  figured. 
I  had  to  educate  myself,  you  see." 

I  say :  "  How  old  were  you  when  you  came 
west?" 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  I  was  twenty-two  or  three. 
Aunt  Caty  and  Uncle  Dancl  came  a  year  or  two  be 
fore  I  did.  I  went  to  their  house  when  I  came. 

324 


Aunt  Caty  is  quite  a  little  older  than  I  am.  She  was 
the  oldest  of  us  all.  That 's  how  Sylvanus  and  the 
girls  come  to  be  so  old." 

I  say :  "  How  did  you  come  to  have  such  old- 
fashioned  names,  like  Heman,  and  Hiram,  and  so 
forth?" 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  they  're  Bible  names. 
Father  was  great  on  the  Bible.  But  Uncle  Dancl 
and  Aunt  Caty  named  their  boys  and  girls  out  o' 
books." 

The  old  mares  have  been  walking  a  long  time. 
My  father  starts  them  up. 

I  say :     "  Pa,  you  did  n't  go  to  war,  did  you  ?  " 

My  father  says :  "  No,  I  was  over  age.  But  my 
brother  Jacob  went  anyway.  He  was  over  sixty. 
He  was  afraid  the  South  would  beat  if  he  did  n't 

go." 

My  father  laughs.  He  says :  "  He  said  when 
he  used  to  march  his  army  boots  hurt  his  feet,  so 
he  'd  take  'em  off  and  carry  'em  on  his  musket.  He 
always  went  barefoot.  When  he  went  courtin'  he 
always  carried  his  boots  till  he  got  there,  and 
then  he  put  'em  on  and  went  in.  You  know  he 
married  Deborah  Tinkham.  Afterwards  he  mar 
ried  Desire  Tinkham.  She  was  Deborah's  sis 
ter." 

I  say :  "  Were  they  any  relation  to  the  Tink- 
hams  over  north?  " 

My  father  says :     "  No,  not  as  I  ever  heard." 
325 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

When  we  come  to  the  big  elm  at  the  town  line,  we 
turn  to  the  left  instead  of  going  straight  ahead. 
It  brings  us  out  at  the  South  Plank  again  near 
Bernard's. 

My  father  says :  "  It 's  kind  o'  nice  for  a  change, 
even  if  the  goin'  is  n't  quite  as  good.  I  kind  o'  like 
the  way  it  goes  down  and  up  through  the  woods,  and 
you  never  know  what 's  comin'  next." 

When  we  go  by  Tip's  we  don't  see  anyone.  I  sup 
pose  they  are  having  supper.  At  Edie's  house,  her 
mother  is  sitting  at  the  window.  She  does  n't  look 
at  us. 

We  go  down  the  hill.  I  look  down  the  lane.  The 
cows  are  just  coming  up  out  of  the  woods. 

My  father  says :  "  There  come  the  cows !  You 
won't  have  to  go  after  'em.  You  can  just  jump  out 
and  open  the  gate,  and  let  'em  come  along  them 
selves." 

We  drive  in  past  the  asparagus  row  and  stop 
over  the  plank  walk  by  the  woodshed  door.  I  get 
down.  My  mother  comes  to  the  door.  My  father 
reaches  under  the  seat  for  the  apples,  and  I  get  my 
hat  and  coat  and  shoes,  and  the  books. 

My  mother  says :  "  You  did  n't  go  barefoot  and 
without  your  coat  over  there,  I  hope?  " 

I  say :  "  No,  I  did  n't  take  'em  off  till  we  got 
started  home.  They  made  my  feet  so  hot.  Is  sup 
per  ready  ?  " 

My  father  drives  out  to  the  barn.  I  go  in.  I 
326 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

open  the  book  package,  and  begin  to  read  Ida  May. 
By  the  time  my  father  comes  in,  I  know  it  is  going  to 
be  interesting. 


327 


LVII 

We  Kill  Some  Roosters,  and  Go  to  Meet  My 
Brother  and  Edit 

MY     father    says:     "Well,    better    light    the 
lantern.     We  '11  have  to  get  the  chickens  out 
o'  the  way  before  train  time." 

I  get  the  lantern  from  the  nail  in  the  cellar  way. 
I  get  a  match  out  of  the  box  on  the  wall  by  the  door, 
and  light  the  lantern. 

I  touch  the  match  on  the  kitchen  stove.  It  burns 
clear  blue  at  first,  with  just  a  little  sputter.  I  am 
not  careful,  and  some  of  it  gets  in  my  nose.  It  is  so 
sharp  I  catch  my  breath,  and  it  makes  my  eyes 
water. 

When  the  match  gets  to  burning  yellow,  I  lift  up 
the  lantern  and  stick  the  blaze  through  the  little 
brass  screen  that  holds  the  globe  up,  and  try  to  light 
the  wick.  The  match  goes  out. 

My  father  says :  "  Oh,  you  might  as  well  take 
the  globe  out  first  as  last.  You  can  never  be  sure  of 
it  that  way." 

We  start  for  the  henhouse.  It  is  Thanksgiving 
to-morrow,  and  my  brother  and  Edie  are  coming 
home  to-night  on  the  nine  o'clock. 

328 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

We  always  have  a  stewpie  for  Thanksgiving,  un 
less  we  have  oysters.  We  don't  keep  turkeys.  My 
father  says  you  never  can  tell  where  they  are,  and 
they  are  always  bothering  the  neighbors. 

We  are  all  glad  my  brother  and  Edie  are  coming 
home.  On  the  way  to  the  henhouse  I  think  of  the 
nine  o'clock  and  the  conductor.  I  begin  to  swing 
the  lantern  the  way  he  does.  There  is  enough  snow 
on  the  ground  to  make  everything  white. 

My  father  takes  the  lantern,  and  goes  in  through 
the  henhouse  door.  The  door  is  low,  and  he  has  to 
stoop.  The  roosters  begin  to  cackle,  the  way  they 
do  when  they  are  surprised.  Then  it  is  quiet  a 
minute.  I  know  my  father  is  looking  the  roosters 
over. 

Pretty  soon  I  hear  a  rooster's  wings  flap,  and  the 
other  roosters  and  hens  cackle  again.  The  rooster 
begins  to  squawk.  He  says :  "  Ker-rah-h-h !  ker- 
rah-h-h !  " 

Soon  there  are  two  of  them  squawking  at  the  same 
time.  I  know  my  father  has  got  another. 

My  father  comes  out  of  the  door.  The  two 
roosters  are  hanging  head  downward,  squawking. 
They  are  white  and  fluffy.  Their  wings  are  spread 
out.  They  try  to  hold  their  heads  up. 

We  start  up  toward  the  wood  pile.  I  open  the 
barnyard  gate  for  my  father,  and  put  the  pin  back 
in  after  we  are  through.  The  roosters  stop  squawk 
ing,  and  then  begin  again. 

329 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

The  ax  is  leaning  against  the  big  chunk  that  my 
father  splits  wood  against.  The  top  of  the  chunk 
is  covered  with  snow.  My  father  has  me  take  one  of 
the  roosters.  It  begins  to  squawk  again  when  I  take 
hold  of  it. 

My  father  gives  me  the  lantern.  He  says : 
"  Hold  it  up,  so  I  can  see." 

The  roosters  stop  squawking.  They  just  look  at 
the  lantern.  Their  eyes  are  round  and  shiny. 

My  father  holds  his  rooster  so  its  neck  is  on  the 
big  chunk.  He  raises  the  ax  in  his  other  hand,  and 
brings  it  down  hard.  Then  he  holds  the  rooster  out 
as  far  away  from  him  as  he  can  for  a  second  or 
two. 

The  rooster  jerks,  and  its  wings  flap.  The  blood 
runs  out  in  a  thin  stream.  It  makes  holes  in  the 
snow.  The  ground  shows  through. 

My  father  throws  the  rooster  down.  It  jumps 
and  flaps  quite  a  while.  It  makes  big  spots  of  mussy 
snow,  with  drops  and  splotches  of  red  in  it.  He 
takes  the  other  rooster. 

When  the  other  rooster  is  through  jumping  and 
flapping,  my  father  takes  them  both  by  the  legs,  and 
we  start  for  the  house.  Their  feathers  are  all  snow, 
and  some  of  the  snow  is  stained  red.  Their  wings 
are  hanging  out  loose,  and  go  up  and  down  every  step 
my  father  takes. 

My  father  says  to  my  mother :  "  Is  the  water 
good  and  hot?  " 

330 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  mother  says :  "  Yes,  it 's  been  boiling  quite 
a  while." 

My  father  gets  a  big  pail  and  puts  the  roosters 
in  it.  Their  legs  stick  out  over  the  edge.  They 
are  yellow.  He  pours  the  boiling  water  out  of  the 
big  tea  kettle  until  the  pail  is  nearly  full,  and  pushes 
the  roosters'  legs  down  until  the  water  covers  all  the 
feathers.  There  is  lots  of  steam,  and  it  smells  of 
wet  feathers. 

My  father  lifts  the  roosters  up,  and  lets  them 
down  again.  He  does  it  five  or  six  times,  and  then 
pulls  out  a  few  feathers.  They  don't  come  easily, 
so  he  lifts  and  lets  down  four  or  five  times  more.  He 
tries  the  feathers  again.  He  says  to  me :  "  All 
right,  tell  your  ma  they  're  ready." 

My  mother  comes.  They  pull  all  the  feathers  off 
the  roosters.  They  hold  them  on  the  edge  of  the 
pail,  and  throw  the  feathers  in  the  water.  The  pin 
feathers  are  harder  to  get  out  than  the  others. 
There  are  some  white  hairs  left,  especially  on  the 
neck. 

My  father  says  to  me :  "  Run  into  the  other 
room  and  bring  me  an  old  Patriot." 

He  goes  to  the  stove  with  a  rooster.  He  crumples 
the  Patriot,  and  lifts  the  griddle  off,  and  puts  the 
Patriot  in.  It  blazes  up.  He  holds  the  rooster 
right  in  the  blaze.  He  keeps  turning  it,  until  the 
hair  all  burns  off.  It  makes  a  smell. 

My  mother  takes  the  table  cloth  off,  and  puts  up 
331 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

the  loaf.  They  lay  the  roosters  on  the  table,  and 
begin  to  clean  them. 

My  father  cuts  the  gizzard  open,  and  turns  it  in 
side  out.  A  lot  of  kernels  of  wheat  and  corn  come 
cut.  There  are  little  stones  among  them. 

I  say:     "What  do  they  eat  the  stones  for?" 

My  father  says :  "  That 's  what  they  grind  their 
corn  and  wheat  with.  See?  —  a  lot  of  stones  and 
shells  and  everything." 

My  mother  takes  the  roosters  and  starts  to  put 
them  away.  My  father  says  to  me :  "  Run  and 
look  at  the  clock,  and  see  what  time  it 's  getting 
to  be." 

I  go  into  the  front  room  and  look.  It  is  half  past 
eight. 

My  mother  says :  "  Well,  let 's  get  our  things  on 
and  go  on  down." 

She  begins  to  get  ready.  She  says:  "Won't  it 
be  nice  to  have  them  back  home  again,  after  all  this 
time?" 

She  laughs.  She  says  to  my  father :  "  I  declare, 
I  believe  it  '11  make  us  both  feel  younger.  Don't 
you?" 


332 


LVIII 

My  Brother  and  Edie  Hare  Thanksgiving  Dinner 
with  Us 

THEY  came  last  night.  We  were  all  waiting 
on  the  platform  when  the  nine  o'clock  came  in. 

At  first  we  were  afraid  they  had  n't  come.  The 
conductor  got  off  and  came  along  toward  the  office 
to  register,  and  the  brakemen  got  down  and  stood 
by  the  car  steps,  but  nobody  got  off. 

My  father  began  to  worry  right  away.  We 
started  to  walk  along  and  look  up  through  the  win 
dows. 

Just  as  Edie's  mother  was  beginning  to  say: 
"  Oh,  dear  me,  they  have  n't  come  after  all,"  the 
brakeman  farthest  down  toward  the  end  stepped 
back  a  little,  and  my  brother  jumped  down  onto  the 
platform.  He  set  two  valises  down,  and  then  turned 
around  and  helped  Edie. 

We  all  ran  up.  Edie's  mother  kissed  her,  and  my 
mother  kissed  my  brother  and  then  Edie,  and  Edie 
kissed  me.  My  father  shook  hands  with  my  brother. 
Edie's  mother  and  my  brother  did  n't  go  up  to  each 
other  at  first. 

It  took  quite  a  while  before  they  got  through. 
Then  my  father  said :  "  Well,  sha'n't  we  go  on 

333 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

home?"     He  picked  up  the  valises  and  started  off. 

My  brother  ran  up  after  my  father  and  took  hold 
of  the  valises,  too.  He  said :  "  Oh,  I  '11  carry 
them!  Here,  le'  go  of  'em,  can't  you?"  He  said 
it  as  if  he  liked  my  father. 

When  we  got  to  our  house,  Edie  and  her  mother 
stopped  at  the  gate  a  minute  before  we  went  in. 
Edie  said :  "  I  '11  be  up  to-morrow,  mother,  but 
maybe  not  till  after  dinner." 

We  all  went  into  the  house.  My  mother  lit  the 
lamps,  and  they  took  their  things  off  and  put  them 
on  chairs.  While  they  were  doing  it  my  father 
stirred  the  fire  and  put  in  another  chunk.  Then 
we  all  sat  down.  They  left  the  valises  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  floor. 

My  father  said  to  Edie :  "  I  felt  kind  o'  sorry 
for  your  mother,  goin'  off  that  way  without  hardly 
seein'  you." 

In  a  minute  he  says  to  my  mother:  "Don't  you 
s'pose  we  might  have  her  down  to  dinner  to-mor 
row?  " 

My  mother  said :  "  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  really 
think  she  would  n't  enjoy  it  as  much  as  if  Edie  went 
up  in  the  afternoon  and  staid  awhile,  the  way  she 
said." 

Edie  looked  at  my  brother.  She  said :  "  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  it  'd  be  better  the  way  it  is." 
Then  she  laughed.  She  said :  "  You  know,  I  don't 
think  he  wants  to  see  ma  very  bad." 

334 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

They  talked  quite  a  while  about  Cousin  Dora's  be 
fore  we  went  to  bed. 

Now  we  are  having  Thanksgiving  dinner.  There 
is  a  great  big  stewpie.  The  dish  is  all  heaped  up 
with  dumplings  and  chicken,  and  there  is  nice,  thick, 
yellow  gravy.  It  comes  away  up  to  the  top  of  the 
dish.  I  know  just  how  it  is  going  to  taste. 

My  father  gives  us  each  some  chicken  and  dump 
ling  and  mashed  potato.  We  pull  the  dumplings 
apart.  They  are  nice  and  light,  and  they  steam. 
Then  we  pass  our  plates  and  have  more  gravy  put  on. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  declare !  I  don't  believe 
there  's  a  heavy  one  in  the  whole  mess !  " 

The  dumplings  and  gravy  smell  fine.  They  taste 
better  than  they  smell.  I  eat  mine  all  up. 

My  father  looks  at  my  plate.  Then  he  looks  at 
me.  He  says:  "Ready  for  more,  are  j-ou?"  I 
pass  my  plate. 

My  brother  looks  at  me  and  grins.  He  says : 
"  I  see  you  ain't  forgot  how  to  eat  yet,  hare  you?  " 

They  all  look  at  me.     My  face  begins  to  feel  red. 

My  brother  is  different.  His  moustache  is  longer, 
and  his  clothes  look  bigger.  He  has  n't  so  very 
much  to  say. 

My  mother  says  to  Edie :  "  That 's  quite  a 
pretty  dress  you  've  got  on.  Blue  just  suits  your 
eyes  and  hair  and  complexion.  Did  you  make  it 
yourself?  " 

Edie  says :  "  Oh  my,  no !  I  could  n't  do  as  well 
335 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

as  all  that,  yet."  She  says :  "  You  know,  I  never 
made  anything  alone  in  my  life  till  we  got  married. 
And  even  then  I  had  help." 

Edie  laughs.  Then  she  laughs  quite  hard.  She 
says:  "  You  just  ought  to  'a'  seen  the  first  dresses 
I  had!  We  bought  some  calico  and  cut  'em  out  to 
gether.  That  was  the  first  thing  we  did.  We  got 
married  almost  the  minute  we  got  off  the  train,  and 
went  straight  and  bought  the  stuff  for  the  dresses. 
'Cause  I  had  n't  a  thing !  " 

She  laughs  again.  She  says :  "  Dora  almost  had 
a  fit  after  we  got  to  her  house  and  she  saw  'em ! " 

My  mother  says :  "  Let 's  see,  how  long  was  it 
after  you  got  married  that  you  went  to  Dora's  ?  " 

Edie  says :  "  Why,  it  must  have  been  about  five 
weeks  or  so.  You  see  we  had  to  stop  right  where 
we  were  and  save  up  a  little  money  before  we 
could  go." 

My  brother  keeps  on  eating.  He  begins  to  smile 
a  little  when  Edie  tells  about  the  dresses.  He  says : 
"  Oh,  they  were  n't  so  very  bad,  considering.  They 
did  n't  set  very  nice,  that 's  all." 

Edie  laughs  again.  She  says :  "  I  tell  you,  what 
we  did  n't  know  about  housekeeping  and  dressmak 
ing  'd  fill  a  great  big  book.  One  day  he  went  to  the 
store  —  that  was  in  the  first  place  we  were  —  he 
went  to  the  store  and  told  the  clerk  he  wanted  some 
thing  to  make  a  waist  out  of.  The  clerk  asked  him 
what  kind  o'  goods  he  wanted,  and  he  said :  *  Oh, 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

I  don'  know  —  gingham,  or  basque,  or  something 
like  that.'  " 

My  mother  and  father  laugh  a  long  time.  My 
mother  almost  chokes.  My  brother  gets  red.  He 
only  smiles  a  little.  I  don't  know  what  the  joke  is, 
but  I  laugh  because  the  rest  do. 

At  last  my  brother  snickers  a  little.  He  says : 
"  Well,  don't  go  and  have  a  fit  about  it !  " 

My  plate  gets  empty  again.  I  want  some  more, 
but  I  don't  like  to  ask.  My  mother  is  sure  to  say 
something. 

I  wait  quite  a  long  while.  I  touch  my  mother  on 
the  arm,  and  say:  "  Can't  I  have  a  little  more?  " 

My  mother  says :  "  My  goodness  me !  Do  you 
want  to  keep  on  eating  till  you  can't  see?  " 

Edie  says :  "  Oh,  let  him  have  a  little  more ! 
It  's  Thanksgiving.  It  don't  come  but  once  a  year." 

My  father  looks  at  me.  He  laughs.  He  says : 
"  All  right,  pass  your  plate  over  here.  I  don't 
blame  you  for  likin'  it.  It 's  one  o'  the  best  stewpies 
your  ma  ever  made." 


337 


LIX 


MY  father  says :  "  Well,  ain't  it  gettin'  on 
towards  chore  time?"  He  looks  at  the 
clock.  He  says :  "  Yes,  it 's  after  five,  sure 's 
you  're  alive !  " 

He  gets  up  and  takes  his  old  slouch  hat  off  the 
secretary  top. 

My  mother  says :  "  I  don't  suppose  anybody  '11 
want  supper,  after  all  we  had  to  eat  this  noon." 

My  father  says :  "  No,  'most  any  little  thing  '11 
do  to-night.  Bread  and  milk  '11  be  all  I  want." 

My  mother  says:  "All  right!  That'll  be  just 
the  thing.  We  '11  have  it  after  you  come  in  with  the 
milk." 

My  brother  gets  up.  He  says :  "  Well,  I  guess 
I  '11  get  my  overhauls  on,  then,  and  we  '11  get  the 
chores  over  with." 

My  mother  says :  "  Yes,  you  better.  You  know 
there  may  be  folks  come  in  to-night  to  see  you." 

By  the  time  the  chores  are  done  and  they  come  in 
with  the  milking,  Edie  is  back  from  her  mother's. 
We  all  sit  down  at  the  table,  and  my  mother  brings 

338 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

us  bowls  of  milk.  There  is  a  plate  of  bread  in  the 
middle  of  the  table,  and  some  little  pieces  of  white 
chicken  meat,  and  some  cheese.  The  milk  is  warm 
jet.  We  break  up  bread  in  it,  and  eat  it  with  little 
bites  of  the  cheese  or  chicken. 

My  father  says:  "  It  just  hits  the  spot,  don't  it? 
I  don't  see  how  I  could  have  eat  another  regular 
meal." 

My  father  makes  a  good  deal  of  noise  when  he 
eats  his  bread  and  milk.  My  mother  says  he  eats 
too  fast. 

She  says  to  him :  "  You  act  for  all  the  world  as 
if  you  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  it  out  of  the  way." 

My  father  laughs.  He  says :  "  You  see  it 's  so 
good  I  keep  forgettin'." 

My  mother  takes  a  long  time  to  eat.  I  always 
get  through  before  her.  She  is  always  telling  me  it 
is  n't  good  for  people  to  eat  fast.  She  says  I  take 
after  my  father. 

When  she  says  that,  my  father  laughs.  He  says : 
"  Oh,  he  takes  after  you,  too."  He  laughs  again. 
He  says :  "  Makes  me  think  o'  the  man  that  said 
he  took  after  both  his  folks.  He  said  one  of  'em 
eat  fast,  and  the  other  of  'em  eat  long." 

We  all  laugh,  but  I  wish  my  mother  would  n't  say 
so  much  about  how  much  I  eat. 

After  the  bread  and  milk,  we  go  and  sit  in  the 
front  room.  By  and  by  we  hear  somebody  scuffing 
feet  on  the  veranda. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says  to  my  brother :  "  S'pose  you 
open  the  door.  It 's  your  company,  most  likely." 

My  brother  goes  and  opens.  Uncle  Anthony  and 
Aunt  Phoebe  are  there. 

Aunt  Phoebe  has  a  shawl  over  her  head.  It  is 
her  blue  and  black  check.  They  shake  hands  with 
my  brother  and  Edic,  and  sit  down  in  the  chairs  near 
the  stair  door. 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  Seems  real  nice  to  have  ye 
back." 

Uncle  Anthony  says:  "  Yes,  it  does  that.  I  was 
sayin'  to  her  yes'day,  'fore  you  come,  says  I :  'It  '11 
be  kind  o'  nice  to  have  'em  'round  agin,  after  bein' 
gone  so  long.' ' 

He  says :  "  I  s'pose  you  cal'late  to  stay  right 
along,  now  you  're  here." 

My  brother  says  he  hopes  so.  Edie  says :  "  My 
goodness,  yes !  There 's  no  place  like  home.  We 
got  pretty  lonesome  part  o'  the  time,  I  can  tell 
you  —  or  at  least  I  did.  I  was  alone  in  the  house  so 
much.  Sometimes  I  got  so  I  could  n't  stand  it  any 
longer,  so  I  'd  go  out  and  help  in  the  field  just  for 
company." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Well,  we  think  you  been 
real  plucky,  to  do  what  you  done,  and  we  wish  ye  a 
long  life  and  lots  o'  happiness,  and  so  does  all  the 
neighbors.  They  all  say  you  got  mighty  good  stuff 
in  ye." 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  Yes,  indeed !  You  've  lots 
340 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

o'  friends,  and  you  '11  find  'cm  real  ready  to  help  you 
when  you  need  anything." 

Uncle  Anthony  sits  with  one  hand  on  his  knee,  and 
his  old  clay  pipe  between  his  thumb  and  fingers.  He 
is  n't  smoking,  though.  After  a  little  while  we  be 
gin  to  smell  the  pipe,  but  it  is  really  out. 

Uncle  Anthony  waves  the  pipe  at  my  father.  My 
father  does  n't  like  tobacco  smoke.  They  joke 
about  it  sometimes. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Ain't  nothin'  in  it,  Hi. 
You  don't  need  to  be  scairt.  I  finished  my  smoke 
jus'  as  I  was  comin'  up  the  path." 

My  father  laughs.  He  says:  "I  shouldn't  be 
s'prised  if  't  was  just  as  well."  He  says:  "  O' 
course  I  would  n't  make  a  fuss  about  it  with  you,  if 
you  "teas  to  smoke.  I  always  feel  like  puttin'  up  with 
such  things  when  it 's  folks  I  have  an  understandin' 
with." 

He  stops  a  while.  He  says :  "  You  know  you 
and  I  have  travelled  'long  together  for  so  many 
years  we  could  n't  fall  out  over  anything." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  O'  course  not !  But  o' 
course  I  don't  cal'late  to  smoke  where  't  ain't  wel 
come." 

Aunt  Phffibe  says :  "  Well,  it 's  my  opinion, 
Davi'son,  an'  it  always  has  been,  't  ye  'd  be  better  off 
without." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Mebbe  I  would.  Mebbe 
I  would." 

341 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :  "  After  all,  as  long 's  anyone 
smokes  out  o'  doors  or  on  his  own  premises,  I  don' 
know  as  it 's  any  o'  my  business  —  though  I  declare 
I  don't  see  how  the  women  folks  can  stand  it  in  the 
house  as  well  as  they  do.  What  7  don't  like  is  when 
they  smoke  in  my  house." 

My  mother  laughs.  She  says :  "  You  ought  to 
have  seen  him  the  time  he  spit  out  at  the  Governor 
for  smoking  in  our  house." 

Uncle  Anthony  says:  "  Did  he?  You  don't  say  ! 
/  never  heard  about  it." 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :  "  I  ain't  neither.  Tell  us 
how  it  was." 

My  mother  says :  "  Have  n't  you  ?  Why,  the 
Governor  was  running  for  office  then,  and  he  stopped 
here  for  dinner,  and  when  he  was  through  he  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  took  out  a  cigar.  He  was  just 
going  to  light  it,  and  Hi  snapped  out  at  him :  '  No, 
sir !  I  '11  have  you  know  my  house  is  no  bar 
room!'" 

Aunt  Phoebe  and  Uncle  Anthony  laugh. 

Aunt  Phoebe  says :     "  Served  him  right !  " 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  I  'd  like  to  seen  the 
Gov'ner  'bout  that  time.  What  'd  he  say?  Was  he 
mad?" 

My  mother  says :  "  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure.  I 
guess  he  did  n't  like  it  very  much.  But  he  did  n't 
show  it.  You  see,  he  wanted  Hi's  support,  so  he 
did  n't  say  anything." 

342 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  father  says :     "  I  don't  s'pose  I  really  ought 
to  said  it.     But  I  just  happened  to  be  feelin'  that 


way." 


343 


LX 


Syd  and  Steve  and  the  Girls  Call  on  My  Brother 
and  Edie 

THERE  is  more  scuffing  on  the  veranda.     Some 
one  knocks. 

My  brother  opens  the  door  wide.  As  soon  as  he 
sees  who  it  is,  he  calls  out :  "  Yo-o-ou  don't  sa-a-ay  ! 
Come  on  in !  Come  on  in !  " 

Edie  jumps  up  and  runs  to  the  door.  Syd  and 
Steve  and  Jennie  and  Frankie  come  in  all  at  the  same 
time.  They  begin  to  laugh  and  talk  and  shake  hands. 

My  mother  says  to  me :  "  Bug,  I  guess  you  '11 
have  to  run  out  to  the  kitchen  and  bring  some  more 
chairs" 

She  says  to  all  of  them:  "  I  declare,  if  I  'd  known 
so  many  of  you  were  coming,  I  'd  have  had  a  fire  in 
the  parlor  stove." 

She  stops  a  second  or  two.  She  says :  "  Maybe 
I  'd  better  make  one  anyway." 

Jennie  says :  "  Oh  my,  no !  Don't  think  of  it ! 
We  are  only  going  to  stay  a  few  minutes.  We 
thought  we  'd  just  step  in  and  see  how  the  new  mar 
ried  folks  were  getting  along." 

Everybody  looks  at  my  brother  and  Edie.  My 
brother  laughs  a  little,  and  Edie  blushes. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

My  brother  says :  "  Well,  you  see  we  're  alive 
yet.  'T  ain't  as  bad  as  you  thought  it  was,  is 
it?" 

Steve  says :  "  Oh,  you  need  n't  think  we  ever  wor 
ried  about  you!  We  knew  you  was  safe  and  sound 
somewheres" 


Syd  says :  "  Yes,  I  sho-o-o-uld  say  so !  We 
did  n't  lose  no  sleep  over  you" 

Steve  begins  to  laugh.  He  says  to  Edie:  "No, 
you  bet  —  specially  after  your  mother  went  and  had 
the  river  dragged  for  you !  "  He  laughs  hard,  and 
makes  a  great  noise  through  his  nose,  the  way  he 
always  does. 

He  says :  "  Le'  's  see,  what  was  it  she  had  'em 
drag  it  with?  Wasn't  it  a  grape  vine,  Syd?" 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

They  all  laugh  a  long  time.  Steve  keeps  saying 
funny  things  about  the  grape  vine. 

Frankie  says :  "  Well,  I  don't  care,  you  could  n't 
blame  her,  poor  woman !  How  was  she  going  to 
know  you  hadn't  gone  and  drowned  yourselves? 
I  tell  you,  you  gave  us  an  awful  surprise,  skipping 
out  that  way  and  never  saying  a  word  to  any  of  us !  " 

They  don't  say  anything  for  a  while.  Uncle 
Anthony  looks  over  at  my  father.  He  says : 
"  H-hem-m-m ! "  He  winks  at  my  father,  but  the 
other  don't  see  him.  He  waits  until  we  are  all  still. 

He  says :  "  Well,  I  s'pose,  now  they  've  been 
showed  how  easy  it  is  and  how  fine  it  comes  out, 
they  '11  be  a  lot  o'  weddin's  comin'  off,  first  thing  we 
know." 

My  father  winks  back  at  Uncle  Anthony.  He 
says :  "  Yes,  I  'spect  there  will !  " 

Syd  and  Steve  and  the  girls  don't  say  anything. 
Syd  and  Steve  look  at  each  other  a  minute,  and  then 
they  look  away.  The  girls  sit  and  rock.  They 
look  as  if  my  father  and  Uncle  Anthony  had  n't 
said  anything. 

Uncle  Anthony  says :  "  Beats  all  how  quiet  it 's 
got !  What 's  the  reason  the  young  folks  's  stopped 
talkin'  so,  all  of  a  sudden?  " 

My  father  says :  "  I  wonder !  They  ain't  sayin' 
a  word." 

Syd  looks  at  Steve  and  begins  to  laugh.  Steve 
laughs,  and  makes  a  great  noise. 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Jennie  keeps  on  rocking.  She  smiles  and  says: 
"What  you  laughing  at,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

Frankie  says:  "Yes,  what's  the  joke?  Tell  us, 
so  we  can  laugh  too.  What  is  it,  anyway  ?  " 

Steve  says :     "  Oh,  nothin'." 

Syd  says:  "We  was  just  thinkin'  what  fine 
weather  it  is  to-night." 

Uncle  Anthony  says :     "  Yes,  't  is  fine,  ain't  it  ?  " 

Syd  and  Steve  begin  to  laugh  again. 

Jennie  says :  "  Well,  you  can  laugh  all  you  want 
to,  if  you  like  it  so  well !  We  don't  care." 

Aunt  Pho?be  says :  "  Don't  pay  any  'tention  to 
'em,  girls !  Maybe  't  ain't  half  so  funny  as  what 
they  think  it  is." 

Syd  stops  laughing.  He  sits  up  straight.  He 
says :  "  Steve,  tell  'em  about  the  rabbit  we  tracked 
up  to-day.  How  many  miles  do  you  suppose  we 
followed  that  fellow,  anyway  ?  " 

My  father  says:  "Did  you  get  him?"  He  is 
interested  right  away. 

Steve  says :  "  Yes,  we  got  him  all  right,  but  he 
was  the  only  one.  We  really  ought  to  gone  out 
yesterday  morning,  though,  when  the  snow  was  fresh. 
You  see,  by  this  morning  they  had  it  tracked  up  so 
bad  that  you  could  n't  tell  when  they  'd  been  along. 
All  we  could  manage  was  just  the  one." 

My  father  says :     "  Where  was  it  you  got  him  ?  " 

Steve  says:  "Oh,  we  finally  got  him  in  the  back 
lot.  We  had  a  great  time  following  him  up.  We 

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A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 


scared  him  out  of  a  patch  o'  hazel  brush  first,  and 
he  up  and  put  out  for  the  marsh.  We  managed  to 
track  him  down  to  where  the  river  turned  him,  and 
then  the  track  went  over  the  railroad  and  kept  com 
ing  back  toward  the  back  lot  again.  It  kept  on  and 

on,  till,  by  George!  it  went 
into  a  pile  o'  rails  not 
more  'n  twenty  feet  from 
where  we  started !  I  got 
down  on  my  hands  and 
knees,  and  there  he  was,  be 
tween  the  rails  at  the  other 
end.  'Well,  old  feller,'  I 
says  to  him,  '  we  ain't  goin' 
to  chase  you  another  mile 
down  there  and  back,  so 
here  goes  ! '  " 

My  father  says :  "  How  did  you  get  him  ?  "  He 
can't  wait  for  Steve  to  tell  it  his  own  way.  My 
mother  begins  to  laugh  at  him. 

Syd  says :  "  Oh,  Steve  did  n't  take  any  chances. 
He  just  let  him  have  a  charge  o'  shot,  and  that  was 
the  end  of  him." 

My  father  says:  "Didn't  it  tear  him  all  up? 
It  must  have  been  awful  close  range." 

Steve  says :  "  No,  he  was  sitt'n'  so  I  could  get  a 
good  sight  at  his  head.  He  was  n't  so  very  bad." 

It  takes  quite  a  while  to  tell  about  the  rabbit. 
The  girls  begin  to  look  tired. 

348 


A  COUNTRY  CHRONICLE 

Steve  notices.  He  gets  up.  He  says :  "  I  s'pose 
we  really  ought  to  be  goin' — hey,  girls?" 

My  brother  and  Edie  say :  "  Oh,  don't  be  in  a 
hurry !  You  've  only  staid  a  little  while." 

Jennie  says :  "  Well,  you  see  we  're  on  our  way 
to  choir  practice.  I  guess  we  really  must  go." 

Frankie  says :  "  Yes,  we  really  must.  But  we  '11 
be  up  to  see  you  again  sometime,  after  you  're 
settled."  She  says :  "  We  won't  know  quite  how  to 
behave  to  you,  for  a  while,  now  you  're  married  and 
going  around  just  like  all  the  grown  folks." 

The  girls  and  Syd  and  Steve  go  out. 

Aunt  Phoebe  gets  up.  She  says :  "  Well, 
Davi'son,  ain't  it  'bout  time  we  was  gittin'  'long 
home  too?"  She  throws  the  blue  and  black  check 
shawl  over  her  head. 

Uncle  Anthony  gets  up.  Aunt  Phoebe  says : 
"  You  know,  you  got  to  cut  a  few  sticks  o'  wood  for 
breakfast  yet." 

Uncle  Anthony  begins  to  laugh.  He  says : 
"  There  she  goes  agin !  Always  wantin'  wood. 
'Y  gosh  all  fishuks,  I  don't  see  what  she  does  with  it 
all ! " 

He  starts  and  opens  the  door.  He  says :  "  Well, 
good  evenin'  to  ye  all ! "  He  puts  his  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  and  feels  in  his  vest  pocket  for  a  match. 

He  says :  "  Hi,  I  don't  s'pose  ye  '11  mind,  will  ye, 
if  I  light  my  pipe  on  yer  front  steps?" 

My  father  laughs. 

349 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  ft 


A    001  248  020 


SOLT  .^ANCH, 

UNIVE,  FORNIA, 

LLB.RARY, 

ANGELES, 


